


Beautiful When You Die

by ScarletteStar1



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: Captive/Captor, Dubious Consent, F/M, HOAp, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Slow Burn, Spontaneous Orgasm, Stockholm Syndrome, because I can't possibly be normal or ship anything rational, possible redemption arc but after lots of bizarre kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: He's never met anyone like her before. She defies him. She challenges him. She steals his breath, and that's not the way it is supposed to work. Not at all. He finds himself wanting to make her happy, but needing things from her in return.Or the one where Hap barters with Prairie for favors of a certain nature.





	1. Chapter 1

_**“And it’s such a sad old feeling** _   
_**All the fields are soft and green** _   
_**It’s memories that I’m stealing** _   
_**But you’re innocent when you dream** _   
_**When you dream** _   
_**You’re innocent when you dream.” Tom Waits, Innocent When You Dream.** _

 

He watched her breathe.

He watched her breathe.

It was as if she did it with her entire body, breathing, as she tilted her face up to the sun. He'd never seen anything quite like it. It was almost more than he could bear.

He watched as she held the loaf of bread to her face. She brushed her lips over it’s golden crust, and inhaled the soft, white cushion inside of it. He watched her breathe and move and find things in his kitchen. When she handed him the sandwich he bit into it and his eyes rolled back in his head as he realized it was the first time someone else had made him something to eat in his own kitchen. The thought filled him with a strange and sudden lust. He nearly choked on his own saliva as he swallowed the masticated mush.

Stubborn girl wouldn’t eat the other half, so he let her make sandwiches for the other three subjects in his lab. It was delightful to watch her work. And yet. . . his lust mixed with anger as she took his breath away.

He watched her breathe and he wanted.

He watched her breathe and it created a glut of questions in him that he knew he was not allowed to ask. He watched her breathe and he imagined all the times he would steal her breath.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered as he approached her from behind. His voice was gruff from disuse in tender times. He stood close enough for his chest to touch her shoulder blades. She stiffened and caught her breath. Her fingers froze over the slice of bread and pressed down on it ever so slightly.

“I’m done,” she said in the smallest voice he’d ever heard. “Do you have a tray to put these on? For the others?”

“Turn around, Prairie,” Hap ordered. When she did not immediately comply, he added, “If you want to bring the others their treat, you need to do something for me. Now, turn around.” Slowly, Prairie’s shoulders lowered in resignation and she turned to face him. “Very good,” he sighed, but felt instantly displeased with his own voice which had the tone of scientist speaking to subject of study.

“What are you going to do to me?” Prairie’s voice was soft, but it did not shake.

Hap looked her up and down. His hands hovered over her biceps, but he did not touch her. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. He watched her chest rise and fall with her breath and he found his own lungs matching her rhythm as they stood there, silently regarding one another. “Can I. . . can I touch your hair?” He asked.

Prairie’s lips stretched into an incredulous smile and she snorted a little laugh. “You have me trapped in a cage in your basement. Are you really giving me a choice? Or if I say no, do you deprive my friends of their sandwiches?”

“No,” Hap rasped. “They can still have their sandwiches. No matter what. I just. . . I’d like to feel your hair. The way it looked in the sun was brighter than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Fine. Touch it.” She put her head up in a manner that appeared almost haughty and made him grin. He didn’t do it right away. “Well are you going to or not? What are you doing?” Her sightless eyes challenged him. He reached out and took the end of her long, flaxen braid in his fingers. It was soft and fine, but it had weight and thickness of its own. It was warm, from the sun and from its simply being a part of her. Stifling a groan, he brought it to his face and nuzzled his cheek and nose against it, inhaling the scent of her. She smelled faintly of the industrial soap he bought in bulk for the subjects to wash with, but beneath that was her own aroma of something surprisingly fresh and alive.

“Lemon, gardenia,” he muttered absently.

“What?” Her voice startled him. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud.

“You smell beautiful. I was trying to figure out what it reminded me of. Do you like perfume? I’ll get some for you. Would you like that?” Now his voice seemed impetuous, almost boyish. It made him cringe.

Prairie considered his words carefully, her brow wrinkled. “I don’t want any perfume, Hap, but Scott has a rash on his inner arm. He could use some cream for that.”

“Okay, okay. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” She stood very still and he allowed himself the luxury of looking at her collar bones. “Is there anything else?” Again, her voice startled him from the stupor the texture of her hair and the landscape of her bones had induced in him. He shifted his weight and wondered how she was able to stand so still. He inhaled once more and reluctantly released her hair back to its home on her shoulder.

“No. Not right now,” he sighed and he noted how tired and old he suddenly sounded. “That will be all. Let’s bring these down.”

As Hap followed Prairie down the stairs with the tray of sandwiches balanced between his hands, he watched her back expand and contract as she took in air. He could tell she felt the change in scent and temperature and moisture of the air as they descended. He made his breath match hers and tried to imagine all the ways he could do things that he couldn’t yet even imagine.


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s on the bed.” He watched her feel her way over to his bed. She sat down on it and felt with the front and back of her fingers until she felt the edge of the material. He watched her gasp. She bit her lip. She rubbed the silk between her thumb and her index finger and then she drew her hand back. She put her hands in her lap. “Would you like privacy to put it on?”

“What color is it?”

“It’s blue.”

“Describe it in detail.”

“It’s a very dark blue, but not navy blue. It’s rich and almost iridescent when the fabric moves in the light. Then there are shimmers of gold, violet, turquoise. And the lace around the edges is a creamy white. Like a shade deeper than a dove’s feathers. Can you imagine that?”

Prairie nodded. “And you like this?”

“Yes. I do. I want you to put it on, Prairie. Will you put it on now?”

Prairie’s nostrils flared and she pinched her mouth. “I want to know you’ve kept your word first.”

“Okay,” he said. Hap came and sat next to her on the bed. He took her hand and placed it in a bowl. In it her hand wandered over something soft and round. She squeezed lightly to feel the room temperature softness give slightly beneath her fingertips. She picked one of the orbs up and brought it to her face to smell its sweet fragrance. “How did you come up with peaches?” He asked.

“I could ask how you came up with blue silk,” she challenged.

“Fair enough,” he chuckled.

“It’s what Rachel wanted,” Prairie smiled with a little shake of her head. She looked so genuinely pleased, sitting there with the fuzzy, golden peach pressed to her cheek that Hap could have bought her an entire orchard of them. “Rachel was remembering when she had a peach tree someplace she lived with a roommate. There were so many peaches the tree’s branches almost broke with the weight of them. So, they picked them and they brought some to an elderly man down the street that they were fond of. She said they tasted delicious that summer, but more than anything she loved the feeling of how heavy and warm they were, fresh from the tree, the way they felt when she held them in her hand to offer them to the old man. She said she’d give anything for a fresh, ripe peach.”

“So you’re doing this for her?” Hap swallowed and scowled simultaneously. Prairie nodded.

“Thank you, Hap. I’ll change now. I would like some privacy, if you don’t mind.” Hap took the fruit from her. He allowed his hand to linger on hers for just a moment, taking note of how she’d warmed the peach just a few degrees more with her own body heat. He stood and started to leave, but Prairie said, “Could you leave the bowl here? Next to me?” She touched the bedside table.

“Uh, yeah,” he said and placed the bowl on the nightstand. He left the room and closed the door. He wandered to his office and smoked a cigarette. He checked the monitors and found the others lying in their beds. All was quiet. Looking at the monitors, he tried to pretend it was any other ordinary night in his home and lab, but then he saw Prairie’s empty cell and his abdomen filled with excited anticipation.

The idea had come to him like a revelation. It had practically alighted in his brain of its own force and will, but he quickly claimed it as his own and shaped it into a unique invention. When he’d taken the bite of sandwich that Prairie had made the first day she’d been in his kitchen, it had been like a taste of holy communion. Seeing the longing in her face, he knew he had stumbled upon something precious and divine. It would be a sin to turn his back on this opportunity to bond with his subject, and who knew how it could shape his work. He thrilled at the notion that such a bond could provide a depth never before dreamed of. And it was all because of her. Because of Prairie. Luminous, luscious, mysterious Prairie. His happy accident turned miracle.

Hap stubbed out his cigarette and rubbed his hands together.

He returned to the bedroom, and gave a light knock at the door.

“Come in.” She invited. He opened the door and his breath and heart hitched instantly. As though rooted in the doorway, he found it impossible to move. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring toward him, and for a moment it was as though she could truly see him. She’d unbound her hair and it fell around her shoulders in a wild, almost wanton manner. The silk nightgown was just a little bit large on her slender frame, and he made a note that she might be losing weight. He exhaled, at last, and as though touched by the breeze of his breath, she shivered.

“Are you cold?” He asked. He looked around the room. She’d folded her lavender shirt, flowered dress and chenille sweater and placed them in a neat pile on a chair.

“I’m not cold,” she said.

“You’re shivering.”

“It feels strange. I’ve never worn anything like this before.”

“You’ve no reason to feel strange. It becomes you,” Hap practically wheezed as he took a step into the room. He clasped his hands in front of him and then behind him, suddenly light headed.

“What now?” Prairie’s throat tightened as she swallowed.

“Just lie down. Make yourself comfortable.” Hap came over and sat on the bed as Prairie compliantly reclined onto the pillows behind her. With light, inquisitive fingertips, he brushed her hair off her face. She blinked rapidly as he grazed her cheekbones with his thumb. “Exquisite,” he murmured, and he meant it. Never had his eyes beheld anything so marvelously radiant. Her pale skin practically glowed against the deep blue of the gown, like he’d plucked a star from the sky and swathed it in silk. She’d laced her fingers together over her stomach, and with her feet sticking straight out in front of her, she somewhat resembled a corpse.

Except she wasn’t dead.

Hap had seen her dead, and she was beautiful when she died, positively perfect even, but this, this vision before him- in his very own bed no less!- this was on another plane entirely.

Prairie licked her lips as if she were about to say something. Hap admired the network of pale, blue veins that fed her rapidly beating heart. This gown, with it’s plunging neckline, had been a nice choice. A very nice choice indeed. “How long do you want me to stay here, like this?” Her question could have meant any number of things, he thought.

“I think I’d like for you to spend the night,” he breathed and curled on his side facing her. The topography of her profile pleased him from where his head was placed on the pillow, but he saw the panic in her features at his words. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t do anything. I just want you here, near me.”

“Oh,” she said. She reached up and felt for his face. “You’re still looking at me.”

“Yes,” he said. He caught her hand and pressed it to his forehead. Her touch was cool, but it seemed to warm parts of him that had been long chilled. “Oh, Prairie. You’re so good. You have no idea how important you are. And here you are, with me. My god! I’ll give you anything. All the peaches in the world, anything, just let me hold you.”

“You’ll give me anything?”

“Yes, yes, anything,” he murmured over her fingers. She hooked her fingers into his lower lip and gently felt the ridges of his teeth then stroked his jaw and chin. She curled onto her side to face him.

“Then give us our freedom,” she said.

Hap huffed out a short laugh. Of course she asked not only for herself, but for her friends as well. He bit back his envy. “You would ask for that, but you know I can’t do that. You’re too important to the work. You’re too special. I need you so much. Ask for something else. Ask me for anything else, Prairie.” He ached to hold her. He needed to feel her in his arms. Need filled him with explosive force.

Prairie sighed and curved her fingers around his neck in a gentle manner. She traced her fingers over his forehead and over his eyes, which he closed. She continued her sweet ministrations over his face and neck, and he embarrassed himself with a low, long keen at the delicate grace of her touch. When he opened his eyes again, the blue of her irises filled his entire field of vision and he was again seized by the impression she could actually see, not just him, but _into him_.

“You’ve been smoking.”

“Yeah, I have.”

“Do you smoke often?”

“I smoke regularly enough. Why do you want cigarettes?”

“No. No. It’s just an observation. Homer and Scott need new socks,” she said at last with a shrug, like it was the best she could do.

Hap laughed out loud. “Peaches and socks? Where on earth did you come from you heavenly creature?”

“You tricked me into being kidnapped from an oyster bar in midtown Manhattan,” Prairie said unflinchingly.

Hap grunted. “I’ll get them socks. Whatever they want.”

“Thank you,” Prairie said and snuggled closer to him. He opened his arms and pulled her so her head rested on his chest. “I can hear your heart,” she said. She brought her fingers to the buttons of his shirt and began to undo them, then spread his shirt open and repositioned her head on his bare skin. Her hair was softer on him than the silk of the garment she wore. “It’s beating fast. So much faster than when I heard it with your device, and yet it still sounds like you.”

“It’s beating like that for you,” he said. He could hardly get the words out. She was stroking his chest. Her fingers found one of his nipples and played with it idly.

“I always wondered why men have these,” she said, tweaking his nipple. She nestled her head in the center of his chest and took a deep breath, as if she was exploring his scent. Suddenly, she asked, “Are you scared?”

“No.” He gulped. “Why?”

“Your heart is racing. My heart beats fast like that when I’m frightened.” Her hand ghosted lower over his abdomen and around his navel. Every muscle of his being juddered at her touch.

“I’m not frightened,” he grumbled, then tried to gentle his voice against his furious arousal. “Are you?”

After a pause, she answered, “No. I’m not. But just like the pajamas, I’ve never done this before. I mean, I had a boyfriend and we, ummm, did things, you know. But we were always so supervised. We had to sneak from our parents. They were always so worried about us because of our disabilities.”

“He was blind too?”

“Yes.”

“Did he kiss you?”

“Yes. We did. We kissed.”

“Did you like it?”

“I did, but not at first. It was different, like eating that oyster,” she chuckled. “It took some getting used to.” Hap put a hand under her chin and tipped her face up so he could see it.

“Will you kiss me, Prairie?”

“I don’t want to.” Her hand stopped moving and returned to her own being; it curled like a flower against her own heart. She frowned and her brow furrowed. “But you want to kiss me. And that’s why your heart is beating so hard.”

“Yes.” Hap twirled a finger around a lock of her hair. “I do. Very much. But I won’t force you. It is so good to hold you, like this. You’re so good, so very good. I hope that maybe, like the oyster or anything else worth liking in the world, you’ll maybe get used to me.”

“I don’t think I can, Hap. Not like this.” Prairie sighed. Hap felt her breath ripple through his chest hair like a breeze across a forest canopy and he was horrified to realize he was about to spontaneously come just like that, in his pants. He felt himself pulsating toward an unavoidable and monstrous climax, as though he were about to fall off the edge of something from a great height.

“Oh, god,” he gasped. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“What you just said, or anything. Anything. Say anything.” He had to feel her breath on his skin. He tried not to move too perceptibly. Oh, if only he could guide her hand. But he wouldn’t he wouldn’t. Her breath. Just her breath. He just needed to feel the moist, sweet puff of her life force against his flesh.

“Sometimes I think you’re just as trapped as we are, Hap. And you’re so much more alone. You break my heart, Hunter.”

Her words were cruel, but they were carried over his skin by her breath. They did the trick. He squeezed his eyes shut and there was a blinding flash of light that seemed to bend and fold and glitter in rhythm with his heart. “Ahhhh,” he groaned and wrapped his arms around her tightly to still his own body as it shuddered with thick spurts of release. He prayed she didn’t know what just happened. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d orgasmed, let alone orgasmed with another human in his arms, let alone with such a sudden and savage intensity. A heady mixture of glee and shame flooded him as hotly as he’d flooded his boxers. Breathlessly, he kissed her forehead. “Oh, you’re so very good. Do you have any clue?”

“Your heart stopped,” Prairie whispered. “It was only for a fraction of a second, but I heard it.”

He refused to apologize. In fact, her recognition of his little death thrilled him more than he could completely quantify. He yawned. “I might sleep for a while. I’ll change into something more comfortable, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure,” Prairie said and rolled away from him as he made to get up from the bed. “Would you like some privacy while you change?”

“Uhh, I don’t think you really-“ he looked over his should to find her smirking up at the ceiling. “Oh, you’re joking with me. Hah. Funny.” He quickly wiped himself with his shirt, and wondered if she would know what he was doing, then put on a pair of pajama pants. He returned to the bed and pulled down the covers on his side. “Here, get under the covers,” he said. Prairie wiggled her body until it was between the sheets and blankets of Hap’s bed. She brought her hands to her face and her eyes went wide. “What is it?”

“The feeling of sheets,” she said. “And the weight of the blankets on top of me. I haven’t felt it in so long. I’d forgotten.”

Then, it was on the tip of his tongue to say he was sorry, or to offer to obtain more comfortable bedding for her and the others. But he wiped that thought quickly from his consciousness and replaced it with the thought that he could entertain her more often in his bed, if she liked it. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” she sighed with a smile and a nod, almost a sleepy laugh.

“Come here,” he said and captured her again in his embrace. He’d not put on a shirt, and the sensation of her skin and silk against his skin was delightful. He turned toward his night stand where he’d stashed a pair of handcuffs. But then he looked at the bowl of peaches and decided he wouldn’t need them. “Do you want something to sleep?” He asked as he rattled a pill out of the bottle next to him. She shook her head. “Okay then. Sweet dreams.”

“Night, Hap.”

When he woke, he instantly felt she was not in the bed.

He sat up quickly and reached for his glasses.

She sat in the chair opposite the bed. She’d put her shirt, dress, tights and sweater back on. The nightgown was folded and placed neatly on top of his dresser. She’d braided her hair.

“Can I go back to my cell now?” She asked him. “Or would you like for me to make you some breakfast?”

He grabbed a tee shirt from a pile next to the silk night dress and pulled it over his head. “Come on,” he said in a voice that was thick with sleep. “I’ll bring you down.” Prairie stood and Hap put his hand on her upper arm to guide her from his room. But she stared up at him with a frown and wouldn’t budge. “What?”

“The peaches,” she said meekly. If he’d had a heart, it would have broken then.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he muttered and turned back to grab the bowl from next to the bed. “I have them. They’re here. Feel?” He took her hand and placed it on the top of the fuzzy fruit. She smiled. “Okay, let’s go,” he said and found he couldn’t get his hand back to her arm fast enough.


	3. Chapter 3

“What happened up there?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t seemed like yourself. You know, since you came back down.”

“I’m fine.” Prairie rolled onto her side, her back toward Homer. It had been days, maybe even a week, since she’d been back in her cell after spending the night with Hap. He hadn’t come for her again. In fact, he hadn’t come for any of them. Hap’s silence and stillness was almost as menacing as his voice and presence. 

The pulp had long since been sucked from all their peach pits. 

At first her return had seemed a victory, but as the days passed, tension grew between the captives. If Hap was silent and absent, so was Prairie. She couldn’t explain it so she didn’t try. 

“Fuck. What did he do to you?” His voice was severe but quiet so as not to wake Rachel and Scott. 

“Nothing.” Prairie opened and closed her fists under her pillow. 

“Okay, well, you were up there for the whole night. Like the. whole. night.”

“I’m aware of that, Homer.” 

“Did he sleep? How could you have not killed him in his sleep?” 

“You ever kill a man?” Prairie turned her head and asked over her shoulder. She heard Homer sigh in frustration. She turned her head away again. 

“Prairie, come on, you’ve got to tell me,” he had softened his voice. “Tell me everything. If he is starting to bring you up there like this regularly, it could be our way out. If he likes you and trusts you. We can make a plan.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Homer. Not right now.” 

“Prair-“

“Please. I just want to sleep.” 

“Fine. Whatever. But it doesn’t really seem fair to the rest of us.” 

At this, Prairie rolled onto her back. She remembered how confusion swirled in her as Hap breathed on her forehead and told her she was good and special. She thought about the smell and tenderness of the fruit she’d claimed and brought back to her tribe below the earth. She heard Hap murmuring in his sleep while she laid, wide awake on the pillow beside him, unable to discern his nocturnal ramblings. 

She brought her hands to her face and rubbed her forehead hard with an aggravated hiss. “I’m sorry, Homer. You didn’t enjoy your peach? I mean, I'm sure he will follow through on the socks.” 

“I’d enjoy my freedom more. We all would.” 

“I’m not a miracle worker.” Her voice felt far away. She could hear Homer close to the glass of her cell. She could hear his breath bounce gently off the glass and back to his own mouth. She heard a squeak and knew he was tracing shapes in the vapor on the glass with his finger. And then she felt, not so much as heard, him move away from the shared wall between their cells to the other side of his, away from her.


	4. Chapter 4

Tempted though he was, Hap did not traverse the stairs to fetch Prairie from her cell in the days that followed their night together.

A strange sensation crawled beneath his skin. It was a feeling he wanted sublimated as quickly as possibly before it had the chance to dysregulate him again. If he had to name it, he’d have called it lustful desire mixed with remorseful shame. It was not a soup from which he wanted to sip, though it seemed appetizing as it theoretically simmered in the pot.

He could resist. He could deny himself. He knew he could. The carnality with which he had flirted was anathema to his work. A folly. He knuckled down and regrouped, easily as putting peaches in a bowl.

He had control.

To give. To take. To mete out as he saw fit.

He could make death and he could make life.

After locking Prairie in her enclosure, and ignoring the scowls of the other subjects, he immediately returned to his room. He looked around and carefully closed his door, as if he were afraid of someone walking in on him. He rushed to his dresser and stared at the neatly folded square of silk. Hovering over it, his hand shook. With an impulsive swoop, he grabbed it, pressed it to his face. He sought her scent. The silk was cool and comforting against the heat of his skin, but her smell was elusive. He laid the gown on his bed; smoothed it out over the spot where she had slept. Then he stepped back and stared at it until his eyes watered. He had to shake his head to bring himself back into the present.

“Fuck this,” he muttered. “What the fuck is this?” He wandered out of his room.

He made coffee.

He went to work.

He left the night dress spread across his bed.

It wasn’t terribly difficult to distract himself and become completely absorbed by his work. He charted data and sat at the computer for hours on end to utilize scientific journals through the digital resource sections of several university libraries. In fact, it wasn’t difficult at all to direct all of his attention toward the rewarding process of research.

It was terribly simple.

Avoiding the lower lab was effortless, so long as he convinced himself he had mountains of material to climb in front of his computers topside.

So days passed, in blurs of blue light, coffee, sleeping pills, and cigarettes. He kept the nightie stretched limply on his bed, and at night before he drifted away on chemically induced unconsciousness, he allowed his thoughts to shift toward her. He indulged in images of her fingers floating upon his flesh. Groping with his own thick fingers, he could not approximate her touch, could not even come close. Lying on his back, he would reach, ever so slightly, until just the tip of his pinky finger made contact with the dark pool of cool silk. Like that, he’d lie, very still until he fell soundly asleep. Even if he grew hard in this process, he did nothing to relieve it. He’d channel that energy into his work the next day.

He found he could string hour after hour together without even thinking of Prairie, so long as he kept in motion clacking away at his keyboard, turning pages, or scribbling notes in margins with a mechanical pencil.

And then out of nowhere a thought would pierce him, bring him nearly to his knees. _Was she cold? Was she thinking of him? Did she feel sad he hadn’t returned to her yet?_

The thoughts sat in him like a sharp pit.

He went out to his porch.

He lit a cigarette.

_Had he caused her distress? Any distress- physical, mental, emotional, spiritual?_

“Oh, Prairie, I couldn’t live with myself,” he exhaled in a smoky whisper. His lie hung in the air around his head then floated off on the breeze with regret and remorse as he returned to his work.

Like this, days passed.

It seemed easier to pretend the night with Prairie had never happened with every moment he put between them. He folded up the nightgown and put it on a shelf in his closet. He closed the closet door and puffed his chest out in a sense of success.

When he turned on the gas to sedate the subjects, he noticed his finger twitch ever so slightly over the dial marked with her name. But he felt certain he could be strong. _Control,_ he reminded himself. _Life and death. You have that._

He studied Rachel that day and felt particularly proud when he wheeled her back to her cell with nary a glance at Prairie, who stood at her door, stiff as a soldier.

 _Your fragile bones do not tempt me_ , he though with a wry expression.

Hap returned upstairs that evening feeling victorious enough to celebrate. He poured a generous whisky and made himself a little platter of cheese and crackers. Then he went out on the porch and called Leon.

That was the trigger.

In retrospect he _knew_ he should have known better.

“You have to come and see the new lab, Hap,” Leon practically sang. “Access to a hospital incinerator in a nearly deserted wing has made my enforced turnover almost effortless!”

Involuntarily, Hap envisioned carrying Prairie’s frail body across a sterile room, opening a door and tossing it into a blaze of hellfire. He gagged and liquor burned the back of his throat. He swallowed it down. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll fly out soon. I’d love to see it,” he said.

“We’re overdue for a consultation and dinner,” Leon said. “It’s like you’ve been cloistered up there or something. I’m beginning to wonder what’s keeping you so static.”

“Ah, it’s nothing really. The work is just at a delicate place. I’ve been busy, you know how it goes.” Hap paced his porch and found a way to get off the line with Leon.

He returned inside and tossed his phone on the counter. “Smug bastard,” he muttered. Then he was at the door to the basement, keying in the code, descending the stairs, approaching her cell, unlocking her door. “Come on, let’s go,” he grumbled.

Prairie stood. She was already wearing her shoes and sweater so she had nothing else to do but comply.

Silently, they surfaced.

He shut the door and watched her shoulders shudder at the click. He reached out and took her wrist and pulled her through the house to the living room. Then he stepped away from her and took stock of the situation. She stood there, face downcast, hands by her sides.

“You’re breathing hard,” she said.

He said nothing in return. He watched her face. It did not move. In fact, she barely blinked.

“You’ve been drinking,” she whispered. “Whisky maybe? I smell the alcohol.”

“Would you like some?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never had it.”

Hap stumbled over to the bottle and sloshed some liquor into the tumbler from which he’d been drinking. “Here, try a sip,” he said. He grabbed her hand and put the glass into it. Prairie blinked a couple times and raised the glass to her mouth. She sniffed the contents and then wrapped her lips around the rim and tossed it back in a single motion that looked easy and practiced, but was soon followed by her sputtering and coughing as alcohol burned her throat.

“Strong,” she gasped. Hap watched with his mouth half opened as she handed the glass back to him. He filled it and drank, allowing his own lips to caress the same spot where hers had just been. Then he filled it again and was about to raise the glass to his lips when he paused. He slipped it into her hand and no sooner than she felt the coolness of it against her skin, than she brought it to her lips and drank it down. Her nose crinkled and her eyes squeezed shut at the unfamiliar taste. Hap chuckled. “Will I get sick? I’ve never been drunk before.”

“If you get sick you can stay in my bed and I’ll take care of you,” Hap slurred. He poured another and they repeated the process.

“I don’t want to stay in your bed, Hap,” her lubricated tongue declared.

“And why is that?” He pulled her into him and breathed against her. Instantly, she stiffened beneath his touch.

“You’re drunk,” she moved her face away from him.

“Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me then. Tell me what you _do know_ , Prairie.”

“What do you want from me, Hap?”

“Right now? I wanna make you happy. Tell me something you want. I’ll give it. I’ll give you something. Do you want something to eat or drink? Do you want to go outside for a while? Tell me, Prairie. God, baby, you’re so precious. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I want to go back to my cell.”

“No. Not that. Ask me for something. Ask me for something I can give you. I want to give you something.”

“Okay, then the others, they would like-“

“No! Not the others! I’m tired of doing stuff for them. I want to do something for you. Just for you. Ask me for you.”

“And what do I have to do for it?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Hap heard the catch of her breath and the pulse of her shoulders as she started to cry. He moved forward to embrace her. No sooner was she in his arms than he was struck with the impossible lust, desire and shame that had smoldered within him for so many days. He stroked her hair of her face and crushed her against him. “Believe me,” he moaned. “Believe in me. Oh, Prairie I need you to believe in me.”

“I believe,” she mumbled with a swipe of her hand over her nose. She cleared her throat and continued in a more clear, strong voice, “I believe you are doing truly monstrous things. But I do not believe you are truly a monster.” Her cheeks were pink from crying and whisky. She pushed away from him and fumbled around the room with her arms outstretched until she found a chair, into which she let her body sink.

“You don’t understand,” he grumbled at last. “How could you possibly understand what I’m trying to do with this work?” He watched her fingers smooth over the creases of her dress.

“We do understand. We have had the NDE’s, Hap. And we were willing to share with you, but not like this. Never ever ever like this.”

“Well, it is what it is now. I am amenable to trying to make your stay here more comfortable, if I can. There are things you need or want, and there are things I would very much like to, ah, well, to share with you, Prairie. I think you know this.” He swallowed hard. It was the first time he’d formally voiced his proposition. She had tilted her head ever so slightly to capture the essence of his words and tone of his voice as completely as possible.

“Like having me wear the nightgown in exchange for peaches?”

“Like that. Yes.”

“But . . . why?” She opened her palms to the ceiling and wagged her head back and forth incredulously.

“I told you the first day we met that I have a taste for unconventional arrangements,” Hap sighed.

“And then what?”

“Mmmh? Then what, what?”

“Well after the research is over, after you’re done studying us, when our 'stay' as you call it is over, then what?”

 _The steel door of a hospital incinerator yawned open, licking forked tongues of flame as he carried her body step by step_. He shook his head to clear it of the vision. “Those are details I will see to and take care of. You don’t need to worry,” his own tongue stumbled around in his mouth as he heard his words fall flat. As a sort of antidote to the poisonous lie he just swallowed, he poured another drink. This one, he sipped at slowly, although he was just inebriated enough to imagine it would be a treat to down the rest of the bottle and have his vision double and then triple so he could have as many Prairies as possible float before him. Prairie heard him and reached out her hand for the cup. He handed it to her and she sipped.

“Okay,” she uttered decisively. His head snapped back to look at her so quickly his glasses almost fell off. He wasn’t certain why he was shocked by her acquiescence, but he was.

“Okay?”

“Sure. I’ll do what you want in exchange for things for us down below.”

“You will. That’s good. Very good,” he sought repetitive affirmation.

“I will. Now tell me about these things you want to share with me.”


	5. Chapter 5

He stood before her for almost a full minute before he remembered to breathe again. When he did inhale, he sucked a ragged breath into his chest and tried to make it sustain him, but he had a sense he might faint, or at the very least, fall to his knees. “You’ll do it then. Okay. Good. You won’t regret this, Prairie,” he stuttered. He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt.

“Are your glasses foggy?”

“What?”

“You took them off and wiped them. Why?”

“Just a smudge,” he said, and found it was hard to close his mouth which she seemed to do everything in her power to make hang open like a fool. The thought made him smile.

“I’d like to know what exactly I’m getting into with you, Hap.”

“Oh, we don’t have to worry about the details now, Prairie,” he tried.

“I think we do. At least I do. You see, you didn’t exactly get an ethically informed consent from any of us when we agreed to come with you. From being blind, and considered insane, I’ve learned a thing or two about the world of research. I’ve participated in different studies and therapy throughout my life. Medications dulled me, but they did not make me ignorant. I do know about informed consent. I also know that because I am blind people think I will miss things, or that they can get things past me without having to even bother with pulling out the proverbial wool to put over my eyes. I’m young and I’m provincial, my parents saw to that. But I’m not stupid, Hap.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all.” He stepped toward her chair and pulled a coffee table over so that he could sit on it, just to be near her.

“Good. Then you should know, I’m not so foolish as to ask for a contract now, nor do I imagine it would do any good. I’ve given up thinking I have a right to my scientific fate when I’m in your hands. But if you could give me the small kindness of allowing me to predict my personal fate with you, when we are engaged in this thing,” she waved her hand back and forth between them.

Hap swallowed hard. “I want you to be comfortable here, and I know there are things that you and your companions downstairs might want that perhaps I’ve not considered. If you think of those things, you tell me. And then I will think of something I’d like in return,” he considered the words and they sounded equally clinical as they did creepy. He tried to adjust his tone and added, “You know, within reason.”

“Right,” Prairie said slowly. “Within reason. So, I wear sexy looking stuff for you in exchange for special snacks? Like that?”

“The lingerie was impulsive and I’m not entirely proud with that, but you were so beautiful,” he put a hand on her knee and pretended not to notice when she cringed. “I can't apologize for it. I just can't. You were spectacular. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She leaned into him so her face was close to his and she said. “There’s your problem, Hap. I’m not a thing.”

He felt her breath over his skin and he threw his head back and moaned, “Why are you being so difficult.” He asked. Prairie was silent. “Okay, fine. Maybe you could do a little cooking for me. I liked it when you made that sandwich. I don’t have anyone here who ever cooks for me and, well, I don’t know, food always seems to taste better when someone else cooks it for you, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Prairie chucked skeptically. “Do I have to wear sexy stuff while I cook?”

Hap laughed out loud and said, “No! Absolutely not. You can wear your normal clothes. I’m not a deviant. I’m just trying to make a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Prairie bit her lip and rubbed her forehead. “So what do I have to do to get you to bring me back to my cell?”

“Your cell? Why do you want to go back there?”

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice in the long run, Hap. Is it? Whatever we do or say up here, you’re still going to lock me back down there, aren’t you?” She reached into the air until her hand made contact with a part of him, which in this case was his shoulder. She rubbed the material of his shirt between her fingers and then let her hand linger over him, creating a warmth between their shared flesh. He looked down at her fingers which seemed as slim and small as birthday candles.

“I suppose so,” he grumbled.

“And I am tired. It must be late.”

“Yes. It is almost midnight.”

“Mmh. I’m ready to go to bed, then.” She stood in a very sober and decisive motion.

“Alright. Let’s go,” Hap grumbled. He stood as well. He put his hand on her elbow, under the pretense she needed help going where she was going. She dipped her head slightly, as though granting him permission to touch her in some nonverbal manner. The boney part of her was almost unbearably solid beneath his grasp, but then there was the soft flesh of her that made him suck in his breath and feel he’d collapse again.

She paused. He felt all of her muscles tighten from just the one spot where he touched her on her arm. “Hap?” She asked quietly.  
“Yes,” he breathed.

“There is one thing I’d like to ask, for me, before you put me back down.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“Can you take me to a window and open it? I’d like a breath of fresh air.” Her voice was but a whisper, but it had a strength to it that bewildered him.

“Of course. I’ll do you one better,” he led her through the kitchen and keyed in the code on the alarm pad. He opened the door and led her out onto the porch. It was cold and Prairie shivered instantly, dressed as she was in only her thin clothes. She opened her hands as if she were filling them with the fresh, crisp air, and she tipped her head back. Hap watched the tendrils of her hair, pale as moonlight itself, as they flickered in the gentle breeze.

“What season is it?” She asked with her eyes still closed against the night sky. “What month.”

“It’s February. February nineteenth to be exact, or, well, I guess it is the twentieth now, to be exact.” Hap said. Prairie opened her eyes and scrunched up her brow.

“I’ve been here a while now,” she sighed.

“Not so very long,” he said.

“I shouldn’t be out here when the others can’t be,” she said and turned back toward the door. “Take me down now.”

But Hap reached for her wrist and pulled her a little more roughly than he meant. She stumbled back toward him and into his arms. “Not so fast,” he murmured as he put his arms around her. “I’ll determine when it’s time for you to go, Prairie,” he whispered over her forehead. “We have a deal, remember?” Her hands were on his chest as if she wanted to push him away, and her body was tight and stiff. He reached up and took one of her wrists in each of his hands. “I gave you something, and now it is your turn to give me something in return.”

“What do you want?” Her voice was no more than the night breeze. He guided her arms around his waist so she embraced him. Her fingers were balled into fists which he felt on him- one on his lower back and one between his shoulder blades.

“Open your hands so they are flat on my body,” he whispered in her ear. She obeyed him and he felt the warmth of her small hands on his back. “Like that, yes, just like that.” He held her rigid body against his, and felt certainly he could melt her with the heat of his flesh and intention. But she did not melt. Eventually, he parted from her and looked at her. Her eyes shined like ebony in the night. She shivered. “Alright. That’s enough. Let’s go,” he said and he led her back inside.


	6. Chapter 6

The other three were wide awake when Hap brought Prairie back to her cell. Scott and Homer stood at their doors. Rachel, who was still tired from whatever had been done to her earlier that day, laid limply on her bed.

“You all should be sleeping,” Hap grumbled as he locked Prairie’s door. “It’s late.”

“Last time I checked you’re not my father, you cold blooded sombitch,” Scott said. Hap raised an eyebrow, but didn’t bother to reply. As soon as he was gone, Homer and Scott came to the walls closest to Prairie’s cell. “What’d he do to you?” Scott asked fiercely.

“Nothing, really,” Prairie responded slowly. She sat down on the edge of her bed. She felt self conscious. She could tell they were all staring at her. She worried they could smell whiskey and fresh air wafting off of her, even though the notion was ridiculous. She licked her lips repeatedly, as though they were covered with guilt and she could rid herself of it with her tongue. Taking a deep breath, she chose her words. “He wants to make a deal,” she said softly.

“For our freedom?” Homer asked. The hope in his voice pricked Prairie like needles under her fingernails.

“No. I’m sorry. Not that. He is willing to give us things to make our stay more comfortable. You should think of some things that you’d like and I’ll ask for them.”

“Yeah? And what do we have to do in exchange?” Rachel’s voice was weak as a kitten’s cry.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Prairie said. “He asked me to do some housework, some cooking. That sort of thing.”

“While you’re up there, you’ve got to try to find a phone, get a message out,” Homer said.

Prairie sighed heavily and flopped back onto her bed. “I’ll try. But in the mean time, try to think of some things you need or want. I’ll do what I can.”

“Is this psycho sweet on you?” Scott asked. “He want you to be his girl or something?”

“I don’t think so. I think he’s lonely. He seems to just want some company.”

“Don’t tell me you feel sorry for this sick asshole!” Homer snapped.

Prairie rolled over onto her side to face Homer. She looked in the direction of his voice and fiddled with the cuff of her shirt. “If I did feel compassion for him, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to get out of here any less than any of you,” she said. “Think of what you want,” she said again. Then she rolled onto her stomach to try and sleep.

“I want a fucking cell phone,” Scott mumbled.

“Probably wouldn’t work down here anyway,” Rachel said.

“Then I wanna go outside in the open air where there is a good, strong cell signal. Think I can have that if Prairie sweeps his floor good enough? Fucking bullshit.” His voice was angry. Angry and doubtful.

“I want my ring back,” Homer said and exhaled a big puff of air.

“I want to know what happened to August,” Rachel whispered just loud enough for Prairie to hear. “And I want to play a guitar.” Her voice was sleepy as though she were drifting off. Prairie listened to them chatting for a while, speaking about things they would like, both possible and impossible, as though they were children making Christmas lists to mail off to Santa.

She opened her hands on the thin surface of her cot and remembered the sensation of her hands on Hap’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely live for comments and am so very grateful to everyone who is reading this and leaving such beautiful words of encouragement for me. Thank you all so so so much.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Hap. . . this is why we can't have nice things. . . this chapter is a little bit NSFW, just to give you a heads up.

To Hap, it seemed the first weeks of their arrangement passed in almost domestic bliss. Once, sometimes twice, a week, he brought Prairie out of the cellar. Her requests were typically small and very reasonable. The elastic on Scott’s underwear was shot and he wanted new ones. In exchange, Prairie vacuumed. Rachel could never seem to get warm, so in return for a pair of long, thermal pajamas, Prairie made coffee and brought it to Hap while he read the paper. She was yet to request anything for herself or for Homer, which was just fine with Hap.

She learned her way around his kitchen.

“You know, they sell label makers that can print out labels for things in braille?” She said casually one day as she felt around his countertop.

“Oh yeah?” That night Hap went online and found the highest rated one and ordered it for her. He had it shipped express and it was there three afternoons later with a bunch of other assistive devices and several braille books. He brought her upstairs and had her sit on the couch. He produced the box. “I have something for you,” he said, unable to suppress his grin.

“I didn’t ask for anything,” she said and felt around the edges of the box until she found the flaps.

“No, but I thought these would be helpful,” Hap explained. Prairie tentatively lifted a smooth package out of the larger box and turned it over in her hand. “You had mentioned a label maker the other day. So, I got you one. It prints in braille, just like you said. Here,” he opened the package for her. She tilted her head, listening to the slice of plastic and her mouth opened in a peculiar expression that wasn’t quite a smile, but delighted him all the same.

“If I label the spices and things, I can cook and bake for you more efficiently,” she explained as he handed it to her.

“Sounds great! Go for it,” he rubbed his hands together. She didn’t bother to go through the rest of the box, but that was alright. He could show her the audible measuring devices and books later. She spent the next few hours in his pantry, sniffing at jars of dried herbs and spices and printing out labels for them. He stayed in the other room with his laptop while she worked, and tried to convince himself he was studying an article Leon had emailed him, but truthfully, he watched her every move as she raised little jars and pots to her face, closed her eyes and inhaled. It was particularly enchanting to watch as she differentiated between the honey, molasses, and corn syrup by first smelling, then dipping one of her fingers in to capture a drop of the sticky substance that she then brought to her lips. Hap found himself licking his own lips as he watched her mouth close around her finger, watched her suck at the different ingredients, and then decided precisely what it was with a sigh and twitch of her eyebrow.

The label maker made a series of beeps and then a little purr as it printed out the thin plastic strip she affixed to her item.

“Hap?” She called to him from the kitchen.

“Yeah? What is it?” He walked out to the kitchen and briefly admired the tidy job she’d done of organizing his shelves. Coffee. Tea. Sugar. Flour. Brown sugar. Everything categorized and in a proper place.

“What is this one?” She asked with a frown as she held up a container. He approached her and prior to reading the label, he wrapped his hand around hers, raised the jar to his nose and inhaled. “It smells like cinnamon, but it isn’t. I know the smell. I know it. I just can’t remember. It’s been so long.”

“Nutmeg,” he murmured. He didn’t let go of her hand, but lowered it slightly between them.

“Oh, of course, nutmeg,” she said softly and then repeated almost absently, “It’s been so long.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“A favorite spice?”

“Sure.”

“Mmmh, well, when I was a child there were desserts with a lot of ginger and cloves. I liked those in sweet treats with loads of honey or molasses. I had a very sweet tooth when I was small.”

He took a step closer so their bodies were but a breath apart. “And now?”

She scowled at his pectoral muscles so hard that he felt them flex in response to her consternation. “Now you keep me locked with three others in a cage in a basement and you feed us pellets of something resembling dog food.” Silence filled the space between them and created a chasm. Hap suddenly felt cold. She reached up to touch his face. “Your face is unhappy because I’ve said this. I can feel the lines here beside your mouth and here, between your eyes. But it is the truth. What I’ve said is the truth.”

Hap snapped the lid shut on the nutmeg and set the jar on the counter with a subtle clack and he took Prairie’s hands. “Would you like to cook something sweet? With honey and cloves and ginger? Cookies maybe? Or a cake? I don’t know. You could make something and share it with the others if you like. I’d like to taste what you remember you liked.” She shook her head slightly and she looked sad. “What? What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” she said and took back her hands. She turned from him and resumed her activity with the label maker. She printed out a strip which Hap assumed said nutmeg on it. She felt over the counter until she found the little jar and she neatly attached the sticker to it, felt over the little bumps of braille once to make certain it was on correctly and set it back on the shelf.

“What else did you like? When you were little?”

“I don’t really want to talk about that,” she said with another little shake of her head.

“Why not?” He pressed.

"Because I don't."

"I'd like to know, though. I'd like to know all about you, what you were like when you were small, what Russia was like. All of it!"

"I don't have a lot left to me that is my own, Hap. Those things are mine. You can't have those things."

"I see," he said and hated how dejected he sounded. He begged himself to get control. 

Prairie stopped what she was doing and put her hands flat on the counter. She did not turn to regard Hap. She took a deep breath and spoke. “When you found me, when you took me, I was looking for my father. I was so certain I’d find him, and then I was absolutely positive he would find me. There was no other option. I’d had dreams all my life of finding him, of being reunited with him. Or maybe my entire life had been a dream and I thought when he and I found one another again I’d finally wake up. I don’t know. But I do know that when you brought me here, any hope I had of seeing him again or of waking from the terrible slumber in which I’d been wrapped my whole life ended. You took my hope, Hap. Baking a batch of cookies is not going to return my hope to me, or to any of my friends downstairs.” She gulped and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Prairie,” Hap said and stepped behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and although she kept her hands firmly planted on the counter, she did not push him away. He buried his face into her neck and felt the fluffiest of her hair at her nape against his nose as he nuzzled. He spread his fingers out across her stomach and felt the slender bones of her ribs. He kissed her neck, before he even knew what he was doing, bewitched by the texture of her hair against his skin, and he whispered her name over and over. She leaned back into his embrace and arched her neck onto his shoulder.

“No,” she whimpered. “Oh, please stop.”

“Let me comfort you,” he murmured and pressed his hard length against the soft curve of her ass. “You sweet, sweet thing. Let me hold you,” his hand drifted lower over her abdomen and blood rushed in his head like a symphony. Intoxicated by the powdery scent of herbs and spices in the air and on her flesh, he rubbed himself against her.

"What is this? You think I owe you this for getting me a new toy? Is this part of the deal?"

"No. No. This is for us. Let this be just for us, you beautiful thing," he flicked his tongue against her earlobe and tightened his arms around her. 

“Let me go,” she said and shoved her elbows back into his waist. He grunted and stumbled away from her, surprised by her strength. “Let me go!”

“Prairie,” he said and hardly heard his own voice through the pulsation of arousal gushing through him. “You know I can’t let you go. You’re too special. I just. . . can’t.”

Her lock beat like a heart as he closed her back into her cell. She fell onto her cot and he walked away without so much as a second glance, but when he returned topside, he found she’d left her sweater over a chair in the den. She must have gotten hot and removed it when cleaning earlier that day. Hap picked it up and brought it to his face. It smelled of salty sweat and musk and stale skin. He wandered into his bedroom with it and held it, as he grit his teeth.

Anger and lust simmered in his gut.

He turned off the lights and tossed the sweater onto his bed. First he removed his glasses. Then he stripped off his shirt and toed off his shoes. When he collapsed onto the mattress, the sweater was bunched near his shoulder. He could smell her. “Fuck,” he hissed as he ripped open his pants and rid himself of them.

His cock was thick and hard against his belly. He didn’t want to take himself in his own hand, but it was as if he hadn’t any other choice. He wrapped himself in his fist and squeezed. It felt so good to relieve the aching pressure that had built in him as a result of being so close to her. He swirled his thumb over the head and pressed into his sticky slit, remembering as he did Prairie’s fingers in the honey. He groaned as he worked over himself, wanting desperately to feel her silky mouth around him sucking him off with the same crazy hunger he felt for her. He paused to spit into his hand, needing it to feel more slick as he stroked harder and faster. He used his other hand to cup his balls which were tightening, pulling up, getting ready to propel him over the edge. It wouldn't take him long. He realized he'd been aroused all afternoon, watching her flutter around his kitchen. Knowing this need for release was science didn't make him hate doing it any less. If only it were her body he were sliding into right now. Oh god, the squelching heat and wetness of her would be so nice. The thought spurred him on. 

He turned and buried his face in her sweater and the dusty smell of her flooded his brain in an explosion of green and purple light that spattered behind his eyes with unbearable brightness. He grabbed the sweater and pulled it on top of him as he fisted himself and cried out “Oh fuck! Prairie, you. . . oh fuck!” He came chanting her name, imagining his vigorous jets of semen were flowing into her- into her mouth, her hand, her cunt, it didn’t even matter. When he opened his eyes and found he’d come all over her dingy sweater, he was almost surprised she wasn’t actually there, holding him. “Dammit,” he muttered as he wiped himself clean with the sweater.

He waited for his heart rate to resume a normal rhythm and then he rose from his bed, sweater in hand. He brought it to the washing machine and dropped it in with a capful of detergent. Standing in the dark, naked in front of the washing machine, he mused that Prairie looked like she had sensitive skin. He wondered if the detergent he used would be okay for her skin. As the machine started to agitate, he frowned and thought it would be her own damn fault if she did get a rash from his having to wash her sweater. “You did this,” he muttered as he jabbed a righteously indignant finger at the washing machine, which continued to vibrate gently and indifferently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hap really is such a big, sad baby, isn't he??? I am beyond deliriously grateful for all of the amazing comments, and I hope you will all continue to read and keep them coming! They are totally motivating. Thank you all so much!


	8. Chapter 8

“There’s no way in hell Princess Prairie knows any dirty jokes,” Scott chided as he paced back and forth across his cell in basement twilight. Prairie couldn’t see the change in lighting of course, but the others had described to her how at a certain time of day, the lights dimmed and then turned purple as if to replicate setting sun and darkening sky.

“Nah, come on, everyone knows at least one bad joke,” Rachel giggled. She sat cross legged on her cot and looked back and forth between Scott and Prairie.

“Yeah, a _bad_ joke is one thing. And on that point, I agree with you, Rache. Everyone knows at least one, if not _more than one_ , bad joke. But a _dirty_ joke? Uh-uh. That’s another story and ain’t no dirty jokes up under all that yellow hair.” Scott was in rare form.

“Well, is he right?” Rachel asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Prairie smiled shyly. “I guess there aren’t too many dirty joke books out there written in braille although my adoptive mom did buy me a book of knock knock jokes once.”

“Ya see? I told ya so!” Scott cheered. “I win again. When we get out of here, you owe me ten bucks. Or ten more bucks I should say. You’re racking up quite a tab on these bets here, Rachel. Gonna be a rich man when I’m released back into the land of the living.”

“ _If_ we’re ever released,” Homer said quietly.

“Aw shucks, Home Boy,” Scott said. “You have to go and mess with my one weekly moment of optimism.”

“Hard to feel optimistic when we haven’t made any progress,” Homer said and looked through the grimy glass at Prairie. “Especially when she’s been going up there more often than ever.”

“You’re being a sulky baby. Never gonna get any fine ladies with that sad, sulky face, Home Boy.”

“Shut up, Scott,” Homer snapped.

“Homer, you don’t understand,” Prairie said and stepped toward the glass where she knew he stood. “Please don’t be angry with me. It’s not like you think it is when I go up there. He watches me like a hawk and I don’t have the benefit of my own sight.” She put her hand on the glass between them. She heard him sigh heavily as she knew he did right before shifting from angry and hopeless to forgiving and kind. It was despair that made him cross, and she knew it. She knew he did not want to feel hostile toward her, but that it was an easy feeling to slip into, and it was a more powerful state that feeling helpless, or even worse, feeling nothing at all.

“Okay, you’re right,” he said and put his fingers up to touch the glass opposite her. “I’m sorry. It’s just so frustrating.”

“I know, Homer. I know it is.” She stepped closer to the glass and leaned her forehead against it. “I’ll try harder. I will.”

“Hey, just be safe and smart while you’re up there. We all worry about you when you go, don’t we?”

“It’s true,” Rachel agreed readily. Scott also grunted ascension.

“I’ll be okay. Thanks guys,” Prairie said. Her stomach twisted with uncertainty as she tried to decide if she should been happy the group was finally accepting her, or if she should feel guilty that she was the newest member of their tribe and she’d already earned preferential treatment from their captor. She decided not to feel either thing and with a little shake of her head, she said, “Well, anyway, who’s going to be the first to teach me some dirty jokes,” Prairie grinned.

“I have one!” Rachel said.

“I don’t believe it,” Scott snorted.

“I do, I do!” Rachel cried and Prairie heard her hands clap together. “And it’s not just bad, Scott. Its dirty too.”

“Ok, let’s hear it,” Homer said and Prairie could tell by the drift of his voice that he’d turned to face Rachel as she started to tell her joke.

“Let me see if I can remember this right,” Rachel started slowly.

“Aw shit, man, if you have to start out the joke with that it’s not gonna be any good,” Scott grumbled, but his voice was pleasant enough, teasing almost. Prairie’s lips stretched into a soft smile. Scott was fond of Rachel.

“No, no, I got it. Here. Listen. What did the koala bear say when the prostitute complained that he didn’t pay her after he gave her oral sex?”

“Oh gosh, that is dirty,” Prairie laughed. “What _did_ the koala say?”

“The koala said, ‘You should know a koala bear munches bushes and leaves!'" Rachel finished her joke with a proud volume to her voice that Prairie usually only heard when she sang. Homer and Scott started laughing instantly, but Prairie stood there, smile on her face, and tried to wrap her mind around the punchline.

“I don’t get it,” she said finally, lowering her face into her hands.

“Of course you don’t,” Scott guffawed and slapped his thighs. Somehow, the fact that Prairie didn’t get the joke made it all the funnier and the trio laughed which made her laugh in turn.

“Bush is another word for your, uh, lady parts?” Homer explained. “So the koala munches the hooker’s bush and leaves? It’s like a, what do you call it? A double entendre?”

“Oh my god,” Prairie said as the joke sunk in. Then she collapsed in hysterics on her bed. “But why would a koala be going to a prostitute?” She laughed.

“It don’t make no sense,” Scott said. “That’s sort of what makes it funny. Anyway, you done good Rache. I’ll credit you ten dollars off your tab.”

“Thanks, Scott. Who’s next?”

“I’ve got one,” Homer said. “What do the mafia and the pussy have in common?”

“I don’t know, what?” Prairie asked instantly.

“One slip of the tongue and you’re in deep shit!” While everyone laughed, it was possibly Homer who laughed the hardest at his own joke. His laughter seemed to be contagious to the other captives who doubled over and laughed until they couldn’t even breathe.

“I never thought I’d laugh like that again,” Rachel said quietly once their cacophony had died down.

“Me either,” Homer said.

“I guess it’s good to know it’s still possible, even down here,” Prairie suggested breathlessly rubbing at her ribs. She sank onto the floor next to the glass that partitioned her from Homer.

“Hey, Prairie, you should ask Hap to get us a book of dirty jokes so we can learn a bunch more. I mean, it’s one way to pass the time at least,” Homer said.

“Okay, I will.”

“Yeah?”

“Totally! This is fun,” Prairie said.

“What do you suppose he’ll make you do for it?” Scott grumbled. It was like a sodden, wool blanket had been thrown over them all at once.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Prairie sighed. She found that she did not like talking with her fellow prisoners about what transpired upstairs with Hap any more than she liked sharing with Hap about her existence beyond his gaze. “He’ll probably just have me do some cleaning, or maybe some baking. He said something about wanting me to make cookies like I’d had in Russia.”

“For the life of me I cannot understand what in the fuck that twisted son of a bitch is doing,” Scott said and his voice had changed and was no longer kind. “But I know I don’t like it."

Prairie shook her head and smiled sadly in his direction. “Scott. I know you don’t want to understand right now, or maybe ever. All I’m asking is that you trust me.”

“Why, what are you gonna do? Cuz Princess, if you’re not gonna just plunge a knife into his heart or slit his neck, then what the flying fuck are you gonna do to get us out of here?”

“I don’t know yet, but I think it has to do with what he’s doing to us. I think he’s taking something from us or trying to get something that he doesn’t just want, that he actually needs.”

“Know what I think he needs to take from you, Prairie? I’ll give ya a hint, both of the punchlines of the jokes we just told ended with it,” Scott growled.

Once again, guilt threatened Prairie’s gut. “I hope that isn’t true,” she whispered. “Regardless, I need more time so I can learn. I need to know you believe in me. And I need to know that when I do come back down here I have you three after whatever happens up there. Can you give me that, Scott? Because you can’t ask me to kill a man. I just don’t think I have that in me.”

“Whatever,” Scott said and she could tell he had turned his back before he even said it. “Stupid idea anyway hitchin’ our damn wagon to a blind girl as our savior. Fuck,” he hissed at no one in particular. Prairie didn’t take his words personally, although she’d be lying if she said they didn’t sting. She thought maybe she would ask Hap for some new plants for Scott. Scott had trouble sleeping at night and he didn’t know Prairie often heard him murmur softly as he stroked his fingers light as a breeze over the leaves. She knew he did this because he believed it would help them flourish despite lack of sun and fresh air. He was rough and crass and impatient, but he used those abrasive characteristics to keep an almost plaintive tenderness well hidden. He did not realize she knew this about him, and she would not risk making him feel ashamed at his own vulnerability.

“I believe in you,” Rachel’s voice was soft and small as a mouse, but Prairie knew beneath Rachel’s fragile exterior there blazed a fire of almost impossibly huge love, and a voice that flamed equally as bright and strong. To know this made Prairie touch her own chest so she could feel her heart beat. She closed her eyes.

“Thank you, Rachel,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome, but Prairie?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Prairie heard a rustle as Rachel approached the glass that would bring her face to face with Prairie, although Scott and Homer’s cages were between them also. “I really want to know what happened to August,” Rachel said softly. “Most of the time I know she didn’t get away, but part of me still holds out hope and, oh god, I just need to know what he did to her.”

“I’ll try Rachel,” Prairie said and her fingers slid down the glass with a small squeak.

“I’d like to know the date. You know, so I can honor it in some way. She was special. August was special and she deserved better that whatever he did to her.”

Prairie licked her lips and nodded as tears threatened the corners of her eyes. “I know. I know she was. I’ll find out. Thanks for believing in me, Rachel. I’ll find out for you.”

“I believe in you too,” Homer said. “I’m sorry I was a jerk before.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Homer,” Prairie said just so she could feel his name in her mouth. They sat silently for a while, all of them on their beds. Above them, the sound of a low, long gong broke their silence and the lights turned from violet to black. “Wow it’s this time already.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Homer said.

“Hah, I suppose.” She heard Scott and Rachel shift onto their beds, curl up, get comfortable for sleep. “My mom used to make me brush my teeth and take medicine before bed,” she said quietly against the glass.

“Routines here are different,” Homer agreed.

“Are the others going to bed?” Her voice was no more than a whisper now.

“Yep. You want to talk quietly? Or are you tired too?”

“I’m not exactly tired, but I think I want to sleep. I don’t know. I guess that sounds weird.”

“Doesn’t sound weird at all,” Homer said. “Sweet dreams then, Prairie.”

On a computer monitor upstairs, Hap watched Prairie raise herself from the ground and stand before her bed. She stood a full moment before she climbed under the thin blanket and tucked her body up for sleep. He wondered what they had all been laughing so hard about, and he wondered if they had been laughing at him. He didn’t particularly care; he was just curious.

Out to the kitchen he walked and poured himself some water. He sipped it in front of the kitchen window. Spring was late coming this year and it was still quite cool outside, but the sunset had left exquisite trails of deep mauve and violet in the sky. He wondered if Prairie could see it, if it would make her breathless, like she was when Homer made her laugh. He wondered what he would need to do to take her breath away. He wondered this and he bit the inside of his cheek, suddenly desperate to see the soft rise and fall of her shoulders as her reptilian brain performed the general tasks of sustaining her life.

The irony of wanting to steal her breath, even as he was so keen to feel it grace his skin met him like a slap. He had the power to rid her of life entirely and then restore it by the force of his will, with just a little help from science. She was the first subject from whom he desired more than just NDEs. It was a mangled mess. He found he could not even ask himself why he’d not yet run the trial on her again since that first time, shortly after she’d arrived. For a while, he trudged through vanity and control to grasp at science, but frustrated, he wandered back to his computer screens to watch her sleep. It was unsatisfying.

Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his face. He glanced toward the cupboard where he kept his sleeping pills. Some solid sleep would probably do him a favor. But as he glanced back at the monitor, an idea seized him. He sat down at his work bench and reached for a tangle of wires and a pair of pliers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where credit is due: I totally stole that mafia/pussy joke from season two of the OA. It doesn't belong to me... I just thought it would work well as part of an echo. . . anyway, thanks as always for reading. I'm so happy as always to hear comments from you lovely people.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter for Hap and Prairie. . . take some big belly breaths my dudes, stuff is gonna start to get sort of real.

It took him the better part of a week to craft the thing he’d imagined. Then he waited for delivery of something special he’d ordered online. He spent several more days pacing back and forth in front of his creation, not necessarily second guessing himself, but perhaps delaying his gratification. When at last he went down to fetch Prairie, his anticipation had built to an almost boyish glee.

She allowed herself to be led upstairs, as usual, and stood in his kitchen as if awaiting his orders. “So, how have you been?” His voice was stiff; not at all how he’d intended it to be.

“Fine,” she said. She stood in her typical posture of alert awkwardness. “How have you been?”

“Me? Oh, I’ve been good. Thanks.”

“You must have been busy. It’s been a bunch of days. I was beginning to wonder if our deal was off or if you were upset with me after last time.”

“Upset? No. It’s the work. I’ve been busy. I’ve been working on something. I’ll show it to you later.”

“Okay,” she nodded and relaxed a little. “Would you like me to make you something to eat? Or is there cleaning?”

“You don’t have to rush into chores. I thought maybe we could just visit for a bit.”

“Visit?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise and clasped her fingers tightly together over her stomach.

“Sure,” he said, charmed by how demure she became, but knowing this sweet mannerism was at odds with the almost uncanny strength that lurked just beneath her surface. “Come on. Come, sit down at the table with me. How about some tea?”

“Tea?”

“Yeah, tea. I ordered some jasmine green tea. Loose leaf. You ever have it?”

“Umm, no.”

“It’s lovely. Very aromatic and refreshing. Here, you sit and I’ll make some.” He put the kettle on and got the tin of tea which he pried open with the edge of a spoon. He jostled the dried leaves a bit to rustle up their fragrance. “Smell this,” he said and lowered the container in front of her nose. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the delicate floral perfume of the tea.

“That is beautiful,” she sighed. He began to take the tin away, but she reached up and gently brought it back, her hand covering his as she did. She inhaled deeply. Her eyelids fluttered, then she dropped her hand and let him bring the tea back to the counter where he measured some into a silver tea ball that he lowered into a pot. “Jasmine is a flowering plant, right?”

“Yes, it is.”

“In what sort of conditions does it grow?”

“Tropical climates mostly. India. Japan. Tunisia. Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” she said and her face seemed to fall in disappointment.

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s just, Scott really loves the plants. And it doesn’t smell particularly great down there. It’s dank. The air doesn’t circulate very well, and our bodies, um, well, I just thought that it would be nice to have some sort of flowering plant that produced a nice fragrance. It was a stupid idea.”

“No. No. It’s not a stupid idea,” Hap was quick to say. “You would like some more plants, possibly fragrant ones for Scott?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Maybe there are some additional lights or fertilizer that would assist in growth.”

“Okay,” she nodded and her nervous smile pleased him. “Thanks.” The kettle whistled and Hap rose to pour boiling water into the pot. He put the little lid on and brought it to the table with two mugs.

“We’ll let it steep for a few minutes.” He took a seat at the table with Prairie. “I like these mugs. They are properly large. I never understood why people drank tea in tiny cups. I’m of the mind a mug should hold a sturdy amount of tea. Or coffee. These cups, ah, they’re a deep green color.”

“This is weird. Normally I make the tea.”

“Well, today we’ll be a little different than normal. Weird is good, remember?”

Prairie exhaled a little laugh through her nose. “That seems like it was so long ago. I feel like my sense of time is different here. Like, how long has it been since you last brought me up here? It’s been a more than a few days,” she said, mentioning again the time that had passed between their last visit. He noticed a look of concern pass over her face. “I was wondering if everything was alright.”

“It’s been a little over a week. Everything is fine. I’ve been working.” He raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly her concern was about. It was too much to hope, he supposed, that she had missed or worried about him, yet as soon as the thought tickled the space between his ears, he realized he’d never wanted anything so badly as just exactly that- for her to have missed him.

“I understand.” She put her hands in her lap and sat quiet and still, as if she were a child waiting to be addressed by an elder.

“Hmmh,” he mumbled, surprised and annoyed her admission of understanding was not followed with a confession of secret longing. “You know, even when I don’t come down I keep an eye on things on a set of monitors up here,” he began. “So, if anything ever went wrong, I’d know and I’d come. For example, if you were unwell, or something.” Prairie nodded and knit her brows together as she absorbed this new information.

“So, you observe us down there, from up here?”

“Mmmh hmmm,” Hap said as he opened the tea pot and removed the tea ball.

“Like you’re some bizarre guardian angel,” she said and then seemed surprised the words had escaped her lips. She brought two fingers to her mouth and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean. . .”

“No worries, Prairie. I’m perfectly fine with you thinking of me as your guardian and even as your guardian angel of sorts,” he chuckled and poured tea into the mugs and slid one across the table toward her. “Here you go. Nice and warm,” he took her hands from her lap and gently placed them around the mug. Leaning over, Prairie smelled the fragrant steam as it met her face with a humid caress. She shivered, almost reflexively. “Are you cold?”

“A little maybe? You have a window open, don’t you? The fresh air feels good. It must be spring. April maybe?”

“Yes. April.” Remembering something all of a sudden, Hap jumped from the table. He left the room and returned with Prairie’s sweater. “You left this up here last time,” he said and placed the sweater in her lap. She recognized the nap of the fabric instantly, but her face wrinkled in a confusion.

“Did you wash it? It smells clean.”

“Yes. I did.” He watched her every move as she put the sweater around her shoulders and slipped her frail arms into the long sleeves. “Tea is probably cool,” Hap said and raised his mug to his lips but he stilled and did not sip as he saw her sitting perfectly straight and still. She stared at him. “What? What is it?”

“You know, Hap, it would be really nice if you washed their clothing too. There is a sense of dignity in clean clothes.”

“You have the stream and soap,” he argued. Beneath her steady demeanor, he could tell she was nervous making this statement or request, he wasn’t even sure what it was.

“They’ll wonder why you’ve done it for me and not for them. They will feel the indignity of it and it will put even more walls between us than the glass ones you’ve already erected down there. Or maybe that is what you want; for me to be on the outside.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. It seems they’ve taken to you pretty well. For example, there was one night I happened to glance at the monitors while I was working and it looked like you were all laughing uproariously about something.” He paused, hoping she would offer the information about which he wondered, about which he had been wondering for the past week as he worked and worked with a clenched jaw. But she said nothing. She picked up her cup of tea, blew on it slightly and then tasted it. Hap blinked several times, took a deep breath and asked, “What was it anyway?”

“What was what?” She asked and then added, “the tea is really nice.”

“What was it you were all laughing so hard about?”

“It was just a joke.”

“Tell me. I want to hear it.”

“No.”

“No? You won’t tell me the joke?” He huffed indignantly.

“No. I won’t tell you the joke, Hap.”

“Well, why ever not?” He stuttered and banged a fist on the table. Prairie looked a little startled at first and then her lips twitched in a smile.

“You think you’re so clever with your science and your secrets and all your surveillance of us, but there are things that are just ours, things you cannot have or take. Now, stop scowling at me and drink your tea before it gets cold.”

Hap had to chuckle at her stubbornness in spite of his frustration. “Fair enough,” he said and gulped his tea.

A moment passed and then, “Are you going to not get Scott his plants and lights because I didn’t tell you?”

“I’ll still look into that, but no promises,” Hap said. Prairie smiled at him in return. A real smile. “But some of those cookies you talked about last time sure would taste good with this tea,” he added, happy she could not see the blush that burned his neck and cheeks as a result of her smile.

“Okay,” she said and got up from the table. “I think we have everything here that I need to make them, although I don’t suppose you have any fresh ginger?”

“Bottom drawer in the fridge,” Hap said. He’d anticipated she’d want it when he’d read some recipes online, so he’d ordered some. “Before you get started, I want to show you what I was working on. Actually, it’s something for you.”

“For me?”

“Uh huh,” he took the little box out of his breast pocket and from it, extracted the shiny locket he’d purchased online. “Here, feel,” he took her fingers and ran them over the front and back of it.

“Feels like a necklace?” Her face twisted in confusion.

“Yup. I wanted to give you something special. Inside it, there is a tiny replica of that machine I showed you at the oyster bar.”

“The heartbeat thing?”

“Yes, that’s right. So, with this,” he stood behind her, draped it around her neck and fastened the clasp. The pendant fell just between her breasts. “I’ll be able to monitor your heartbeat remotely.”

“Oh,” she said and touched the new adornment. “But I-“

“Now, Prairie, this is something I want. Part of our deal. I want you to wear this for me.”

“For you?”

“Yes. It would please me, just as it will please you for Scott to have more plants. Alright?”

She nodded silently, but the curiously confused expression had not left her face.

Prairie busied herself with baking. Contented that she was occupied in his kitchen, Hap poured himself more tea and went into his office to work. He tapped a few keys on his laptop, put on his headphones and was immediately consumed by the steady rhythm of her heart. He could watch her telemetries blip across his computer screen, which he did for some time with an enormous grin. Worked like a charm. After a while, he took off the headphones and refocused on some of his other work. So absorbed was he in his studies that he lost track of time and was startled when she crept up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she said and held a golden brown cookie to him on a napkin. He suddenly noticed the house was filled with the warm spice of her baking.

“Hey, it’s okay. Thanks,” Hap took the cookie. “Still warm,” he sighed with a contented smile as he brought it to his lips. Prairie’s face was serious as she listened to him try it. “Oh my god,” he moaned as he bit into it.

“Good?”

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. What is this called,” he spoke with his mouth full.

“It’s called Pryanki. It’s a traditional honey cookie. The ginger and spices are optional, but I used them because I like the way they make the cookie sparkle in your mouth when you eat it. Especially the fresh ginger.”

“Sparkle,” he repeated with his mouth full. “They do indeed sparkle. Did you have some?”

“I tried one to make sure it came out okay.”

“Good. Let’s go out to the kitchen and have some more!” He grabbed her arm to lead her back to the kitchen, although she’d memorized the house well enough not to need his guidance at this point. He delighted in the innocent giggle that escaped her lips.

“You’re like a child right now,” she said.

“Well they’re so good I can hardly help myself. Prairie, you’re miraculous,” he marveled at the discreet rows of cookies she’d placed on cooling racks. Four dozen small, golden hills graced one side of his counter and on the other were the remnants of her project- honey, an open container of sour cream, flour, sugar, and a partially grated knob of ginger. Eagerly, he grabbed a cookie and then took her hand so he could safely deliver it to her. She leaned back against the counter and he watched her raise the beautiful full moon of cookie to her lips, part them and bite into it with her perfect, white teeth. When she lowered her hand, she held a crescent moon between her pale fingers. Hap swore he saw it sparkle.

“I should clean this up,” she said. It disappointed him that she did not finish the rest of the cookie.

“It can wait. Really. Have a seat. You’ve been working hard.” They found themselves seated again at the table, but this time, rather than clasp her hands in her lap, she rested a hand on the table top. He put his own hand as close to hers as he possibly could without actually touching her. “Tell me something. You left Russia at such a young age; how could you possibly remember how to cook like this?”

“I didn’t actually learn this recipe in Russia. My adoptive parents tried, at one point, to embrace my Russian heritage. They got the idea from one of my psychiatrists, I think, who suggested it might help if we made my whole Russia storyline less taboo. So, my mother read me some folk tales and we did some cooking. Of course we had to do it quietly. They didn’t want anyone to know that is where I was originally from, but I guess they felt learning a few traditions and recipes wouldn’t hurt.”

“And did it help?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed and shrugged, but she had a soft smile on her lips. “It didn’t decrease the dosages on any of the medications they were feeding me. And it certainly didn’t bring my father back, but maybe it made me feel a little more connected to him, to home.”

“Do you still think of Russia as home?”

“I don’t think so,” she licked her lips and then pressed them together. “Home would be where my father is. And I don’t know where he is. I haven’t known where he is in almost 15 years. So, I suppose you could say it has been 15 years since I have been home, since I’ve known what home is.” She shook her head and wisps of hair fell across her forehead. Hap reached up and brushed them back then let his fingers trail down the side of her cheek.

“So soft,” he whispered. Her face shifted toward her lap and she stiffened slightly, but she didn’t push him away.

Prairie cleared her throat and said, “It seems you’re still asking the questions that have no answers.”

“They’re the most interesting questions,” Hap’s voice was gravelly as his words bridged the void between them. His hand had trailed down her neck, over her shoulder, and had come to rest on her forearm. “Aren’t they?”

“My childhood history is hardly as interesting as your quest to solve the riddle of where consciousness goes after we die,” Prairie said. Hap watched her throat bob as she swallowed. “Hap, what do you do? What do you do with us?” Her whisper was barely audible, but he heard her perfectly.

“Shhh, don’t worry about that,” he said and leaned in a bit closer to her. “I take care of all that. You don’t have to worry,” but it was not the answer she wanted and the intimacy of the moment fell like it was a marble that had simply rolled off the table and clattered to the floor.

“I should clean, and then if you want I can make something for your supper,” she said and stood. “Do you have a clean tin to put the cookies in? Or some other container? I’m not sure how you want to store them.”

“There’s a ceramic container with an airtight lid in the cupboard below and to the right of the sink,” he said and watched as she effortlessly felt her way to the door of the compartment and felt around for the deep, glass, dish and its lid. She brought it up to the counter and started to pack the cookies into it. “Would you like to bring some down to the others?”

Prairie stopped what she was doing and brushed some flour and crumbs from her hands prior to turning slowly around to face Hap. “What I would like,” she started quietly and gathered herself up to finish, “is for you to wash their clothes. In your machine. With real laundry detergent. Like you did my sweater.”

“Prairie,” his voice was low and had an edge of warning to it.

“That is what I want, Hap,” she said. She didn’t move or even blink. He stood and approached her; still she did not waver. Her face was set in a mask of pure determination and her head was tilted up so it was level with his own. He took a step into her body so they were close against one another. She did not move away, but she put her hands behind her on the counter, as if bracing herself.

“And what about me? What about what I want?” He was close enough to smell the cinnamon and sugar on her skin and the damp edge of the ginger on the counter.

“What do you want, Hap?” She breathed the question and he caught it on his lips.

His eyes darted over her, wanting to devour every inch of her simultaneously. “You know what I want,” he growled and reached over to plunge his index and middle fingers into the open jar of honey on the counter. With his other hand, he tugged on her braid so her head fell to the side and exposed a long, white slope of neck. He used his honeyed fingers to paint a line down her neck and then he lowered his face to her flesh, stuck out his tongue and licked at the sweetness. He thrust his fingers between her lips and cried out when her tongue met the sensitive, sticky pads of his digits. He sucked over her neck until he found her pulse and he needed no machinery to tell him it raced just as quickly as his own.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uggghhhh. . . these two. I did warn you, did I not, that this is a slow burn?

_His mouth._

_Her neck._

His lips against her, so much softer than she’d imagined they would be as they explored her flesh.

Such a curious thing, the heat and need of it.

_His breath._

_Her pulse._

Involuntarily, she arched and gasped as she felt him suck her skin up into his mouth. She’d never felt anything like it. Her hips crashed into his and she pulled herself back just as quickly. An almost painful ball of heat gathered low in her abdomen.

“Did you miss me?” He rasped against her skin as his tongue lathed the tendon in her neck.

“What?”

“When I didn’t come for the whole week? Did you miss me?”

“No,” she heaved. Her fingers clutched the counter. His fingers breached her lips. They tasted of honey. He used them to open her mouth and she instinctively sucked the sticky, amber substance from them. It startled her to hear his strangled sob as her lips wrapped around his knuckle. The ball of heat in her gut buzzed as though it were a swarm of bees.

“Tell me you did, Prairie,” he bit her lightly on her throat. “Tell me you missed me.”

“No, I didn’t. I won’t,” she said around his fingers. She was of a mind to bite him, but he stroked his middle finger over the prickly bed of her tongue and she groaned in spite of herself. The darkness behind her eyes was suddenly dazzlingly bright, the way she remembered a night sky filled with falling snow. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, trying to make the impossible light go away.

“Lie to me,” he whispered and pressed into her, his voice drunk with desperation. Her nipples were suddenly like daggers and she knew he’d be able to feel them through her dress, through his shirt as he clung to her. “Tell me you couldn’t stop thinking of me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to hear it. I need to hear you say it.”

“I will not say it,” she said, but one of her arms came from behind her to find his waist and she held on to him as if she’d fall if she didn’t. She felt the muscles on either side of his spine beneath her fingers.

“Goddammit Prairie!” His voice rushed harsh on her skin. On her neck. On her cheek. His lips wandered over her forehead. His lips were so much softer than she’d imagined, even as he crushed them onto her.

She realized she’d imagined his lips, how they’d feel, how they’d move, how they’d taste. His lips surprised her. Her realization surprised her even more. “I can’t lie to you,” she whimpered.

A hand came to either side of her face, tilted her head up towards him. He touched her with decisiveness but was still gentle. She felt his breath and realized she breathed just as hard and fast as he did. Cinnamon, ginger, and jasmine scented his breath. It was too much. Stinging spice mixed with fluffy floral. His calloused fingertips and silky lips. She pressed her fingertips into his dense muscle on his back. He held himself so tight, but when she touched him, she felt a sense of yielding beneath her hand. She didn’t know what would happen next and curiosity consumed her.

“I could tell you everything,” he said and she thought anger edged his voice. He stroked her lips with his thumb. “Sometimes I want to and other times I don’t think there is anything I’ve wanted more than to tell you. I look at you, the way you are now, panic and confusion writ across your face, and I think, yeah, I could trust her, couldn’t I?”

“Tell me what?”

“All of it.”

Prairie scrambled to find words. She felt as though she teetered dangerously on the rim of a chasm and Hap could either push her over the edge or pull her back as he saw fit. Her mind flashed in a sudden burst with thoughts of the others, and she was not only shocked, but horrified she’d forgotten about them even momentarily. She ran her hand up and down his spine and sensed his shiver of delight. “What stops you?” She asked.

“Damned if I know,” he said. “It’s almost too good to imagine your name next to mine in the annals of history when we prove what exists beyond this mortal coil, but then,” he paused and gently stroked the hair off her face.

“What?” She urged and rubbed her hand in circles over the small of his back. His shirt was crisp and smelled of starch and of him.

“Maybe I don’t want to make you complicit,” he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered.

“Is it that bad?”

“Bad? Prairie, no. It’s glorious. More wonderful even than you can imagine. And I’ve been so pridefully selfish all this time. I’ve never wanted to share my glory with anyone until I met you. And now. . .” his hands brushed down over her shoulders and embraced her. “What is it about you?”

“I don’t know, Hap,” Prairie sighed. She’d never felt hunger in her fingertips, but she felt it now as she brought them to the place where his shirt was open so she could touch his skin. Her own hunger felt almost more dangerous than anything he could possibly do to her. The hairs that poked out of his chest were soft and she stroked him as delicately as she could.

“Will you stay up here with me tonight?”

“Is that a request or a demand?”

“A request.”

“And if I say I’d rather go back to my cage?”

“Then I will take you there.”

She briefly thought of the others and wondered if they would be hostile or frustrated if she came back with no more information than she left with. She currently found herself in a situation she could use to her advantage, but then the bees swarmed and buzzed in her and she realized a part of her might enjoy staying upstairs with Hap. No doubt he’d allow her to use his toilet and she could wash her face in a sink. The thought she’d take pleasure in these simple things disappointed her, but she also held power of opportunity in her hand. She leveraged the guilt she would feel lying in a comfortable, warm bed against her desire to bring back more and better intelligence for them. She weighed what it would feel like to sleep next to Hap against how Homer would feel missing her and wondering what had become of her.

“Will you wash their clothes?” She asked at last.

“Sure. What do I care?” Hap huffed.

“Okay. Then I’ll stay.”

“You will? I mean, great. You will.”

“Yes, Hap, I will stay with you tonight.” She brought her hands to his chest and pushed slightly against him. He read the cue and backed away, but not entirely. “Would you like me to make some dinner? It must be almost time.”

He nodded and she felt the muscles in his chest as he did. “Groceries haven’t been delivered yet this week, but there’s some eggs and veggies. If you like we could have a frittata and a salad?”

“If that’s what you’d like, that’s fine,” she said. “If you could just crack the eggs into a bowl I will take care of the rest.”

“You got it,” he said and she heard him step over to the fridge, open it, and shuffle things around to get the eggs. When he came back, he wrapped her hand around something long, and firm and cool. “There’s a nice zucchini here. And the onions are in the usual drawer.” Prairie nodded. He left her holding the squash and he turned away from her. She heard him crack six eggs into a bowl.

After cleaning up the cookie mess, she made supper for him. “Why are you staring at me? Am I doing something wrong?” She felt his eyes following her every move in the kitchen.

“No, no.”

“What is it then?” She frowned and stood back from the stove to straighten her hair.

“Ah, I don’t know, it’s just that watching you work your way around the kitchen has an almost magical quality to it.”

“ _Magical_?” She snorted the word and shook her head. It was going to take a lot more than magic to get the answers she wanted to bring back to the others. She plated his food and brought it to the table and stood waiting while he put aside the notebooks in which he’d been writing. “What do you like on your salad?”

“Hmmh, what do _you_ like on _your_ salad?”

“Usually I just mix some olive oil, lemon, salt, and pepper,” she said and sighed with a sad smile. “ _Usually_. I guess there isn’t anything usual about this, is there?”

“Oh, I actually think it’s rather domestic,” Hap said. “But I don’t have any lemons. How about just some oil and balsamic?” Prairie went to the cupboard and felt the labels until she found the bottles of oil and vinegar. She brought them to the table. “You didn’t make a plate for yourself. Aren’t you going to have some? Make yourself a plate, Prairie. I’d like you to eat with me.” She nodded and returned to the stove where she sliced herself a sliver of frittata. Back at the table, Hap served her salad. “Smells delicious,” he exhaled and she heard him rub his hands together as if eager to eat. Putting her napkin over he lap, she marveled at how foreign this simple gesture of etiquette had become to her. Again, her thoughts turned to the captives in the basement and she winced as she imagined the clatter of their food pellets being let down from the mechanical feeding device.

“Does it ever bother you?” She asked softly. Her fork slid easily into the supple eggs.

“Does what bother me?” Hap’s mouth sounded full. Prairie heard him swallow. She touched her own neck as she imagined the muscles in his throat constricting around his food.

“I guess that’s my answer,” she sniffed, lowered her hand from her neck, and took a small bite of her supper.

“I don’t follow.” His fork clattered against his plate as he collected more food with it.

“You have people caged in your basement. Cold. Hungry. You feed us food made for animals that comes out of a dispenser you have automatically set so you don’t even have to look at us when you feed us. I wonder if you ever think of it, if it ever bothers you even just a little bit?” She shrugged and took another bite. She was trying to maintain a mild demeanor, but inside she was desperately begging for him to concede that it troubled him, that there was still a shred of humanity in the monster who sat, happily eating, opposite her.

“I don’t think of it that way. I don’t _see_ it that way,” he grumbled and put down his fork. Prairie felt his stare as she brought salad to her lips.

“But you see me?” She asked and crunched down. Lettuce. Carrot.

“Yes. I see you,” his gravelly voice could have been angry or sad. It was difficult for her to tell his countenance without being able to read the expression on his face. Regardless, his voice woke the ball of bees in her belly and she found it hard to swallow her salad. He cleared his throat and she felt the sudden heat of his hand on her cheek. “I see you, Prairie.”

“Good,” she said cooly. “Because sometimes I fear you’re just as blind as I am, Hap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Are we all still accounted for? My slowly burning shipper heart would be eternally grateful if you felt like checking in in the comments to say hi and let me know how you are finding the fic so far. . . This is the longest piece I've written in a while, and it is sort of taking on a life of its own, so feedback would be very helpful and appreciated. xoxoxo.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... so, this is just a short chapter, but hopefully it will spark your curiosity about what is to come. Sorry for the delay in posting this. You know how life can get in the way of super important stuff, like writing bizarre fan fiction... aaannnyyyhoooooo, I hope that you are all still hanging around and reading! thank you so much for your continued interest in this story. xoxoxo.

While Prairie did the dishes, Hap smoked on the porch. He sat on the thick wooden railing and watched her through the open door. Her fingers, in their meticulous ministrations to each edge of plate, each tine of fork, mesmerized him.

She coughed lightly.

“Does the smoke bother you?” He asked. He’d never thought to ask before. She shook her head. “What did you mean when you said before I was as blind as you are? What did you mean by that?” He mashed his cigarette in the dusty, old ashtray he kept on the railing, hopped off, and stepped into the open doorway.

Prairie set down the final dish and turned off the water. She felt for the towel, and when she found it, she dried her hands and took a deep breath. Placing the towel neatly back on its hook, she exhaled and said, “I think people get caught staring so hard at things on the surface, that they miss a lot of important stuff. The stuff that lies _beneath_ goes unnoticed, untouched, unattended.”

“Stuff beneath?”

“Mmmh hmm.”

“Like what?”

“You’d have to answer that for yourself,” she sighed and to Hap she seemed almost annoyed. He closed the door with a resolute click and set the alarm.

“Well, I guess it’s food for thought, then,” he grumbled. “It’s been a long day. You tired?” She nodded. He took her by her elbow and led her back to his bedroom. She stood at the foot of the bed and he was moved by how still she could be.

“Do you want me to change into the nightgown?”

“Yes, I’d like that. Thank you,” he said. She nodded with the same stoic expression he’d seen as she tried to walk away from him, the first day they met, the day he found her in the subway. She’d told him she had to go, but he followed her, unable to keep himself from asking the question to which he already knew the answer; had she experienced an NDE? His brow furrowed and his lips twitched as he regarded her now, his perfect specimen- a treasure, really. She was different than the others. He’d known it as soon as he heard the first notes of her song as it echoed throughout the underground. It was almost a recognition, although of what precisely, he still was not certain. But somehow, he felt she held the key. Or maybe it was greater than that; maybe she _was_ the key. An idea seized him. “Prairie?”

“Yes?”

“Can I trust you to stay here, right here in this room, if I go away for a few minutes?”

“Yes, but-“

“I need to go outside very briefly and I will come back within several moments. I’d like to trust that you will change into the night dress and stay here. Will you do that?”

“Yes. Ok.”

“Good,” he said and opened the closet door. He reached up and snatched down the blue, silk gown he’d shoved up on the shelf weeks ago and refused to look at. Holding it now, even briefly, before he placed it in Prairie’s hands, made his stomach lurch with a potent desire and anticipation that was almost too much to bear. “When you change, I want you to sit on the corner of the bed and wait for me. Understand?” Prairie nodded.

Hap left the room and closed the door. He considered locking it from the outside. All his doors could lock from the outside and inside, but he decided against it. In a flash he was back out in the kitchen, keyed in the code to open the door and darted over the porch and down the stairs. He didn’t run. It wouldn’t do to go back to her completely breathless like a fool, but he walked as quickly as he was able, out to his garage. Another door, another code and he was in another space, this one cool and dark and scented with stale gasoline fumes. He popped the trunk of his car and obtained the parcel he was after. With it cradled gingerly in his arms, he returned to the bedroom, locking each and every door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanna guess what Hap is bringing back to Prairie? Hmmmmm. . . 
> 
> I'd love to hear from you, so feel free to say hello in the comments. I am also on Tumblr now both as Scarlette Star, and also have an OA sideblog, Five Movements. I hope I will see you there as well!!! I love you all so so so much for reading and your sweet comments are so inspiring and wonderful and I am hoping to post another chapter this week, so stay tuned!!! xoxoxoxo.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up, this chapter is NSFW, so consider yourself warned if that isn't your thing. . . if it is your thing, then full speed ahead! This is also a much longer chapter to reward all of you lovely readers for being so patient with how long it is taking for me to crank these things out. . . oxo.

It pleased him to no end to find her perched like a luminous blue bird on the edge of his bed when he reentered the room. She moved not a muscle as he approached the bed, although he thought perhaps he saw her nose twitch, as though she might sneeze.

“Very good,” he sighed. “You waited perfectly.” She did not say anything in return, but her shoulders rose and fell with her breathing and made colors dance in the silk she wore. “Will you do something else for me? Just one more thing?”

“What?” She swallowed and he wanted to take her neck in between his hands so he could feel it move.

“Unbraid your hair,” he said and his voice was only slightly more commanding than he intended. He watched as her tiny fingers pulled the tie out from the bottom of her thick, golden plait and spread her hair over her shoulders. His mouth was suddenly very dry.

“You’re holding something?”

“Mmmmh.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve been so wonderful today,” Hap purred. “Do you know how good you’ve been, Prairie?”

“Umm, thank you?”

“I’d like to give you a little reward to let you know how good you are, and how special you are,” it was on the tip of his tongue to add, to me, but he left those two syllables silently begging in his cheek. He sat down on the bed next to her and placed the black case in her arms as if it were a baby. She embraced it instinctively.

“My violin,” she gasped.

“Yes,” he breathed. She ran her hands over the case and found the clasps, but she didn’t open it immediately. She paused, sucked in her breath, and bit her bottom lip. “Well? Don’t you want to play it?”

She tilted her head and frowned. “Do you want me to play it?”

“Sure! Have at it.”

She turned from him so she could set the case on the bed and she opened the latches. Her fingers wandered first over the velvet inside the case, and then over the instrument itself. “It’s been so long,” she murmured and finally wrapped her fingers gently around the neck of the violin and brought it to her face. She inhaled deeply over the strings, turned it over and rubbed the sleek back against her cheek. Hap stifled a groan of arousal as he saw her lips grace the slender curve of the wood. “Smells like home,” she whispered against it as though she were speaking to it, not to Hap, as though Hap were not even in the room. With a light chuckle, she set it upon her lap and shifted her face toward the ceiling. “You know, as soon as you came back into the room, I thought I smelled something familiar and then I thought it was just my mind playing a trick on me.”

He thought her smile was sad so he moved his eyes away from it and focused instead on the way her fingers explored the violin’s bridge, as if she were making sure every millimeter of it were just as she remembered. “Your violin has a certain smell?”

“I mean, probably not,” she shook her head. “I don’t know, maybe it’s dust underneath the strings or hiding in cracks in the varnish? Or maybe it’s the wood. Or maybe somehow inside, in here,” she lightly twirled a finger over one of the swirled slits, “there are lingering breaths of people and places I’ve known and loved. Abel’s flower beds on hot summer afternoons. Nancy’s casseroles bubbling in the oven on cold winter nights. My father’s cigar smoke wafting out of his office way back in Moscow.” Her voice took a trance-like quality as she spoke.

“You got all that from a violin?” Hap questioned, still watching her fingers fondle the dark _F_ curve on the instrument’s waist.

“It’s silly, I know,” she shook her head.

“No, no! It’s not silly at all,” he said, instantly frustrated with himself for breaking the spell she’d been casting with her words. She plucked the strings and scowled, then began the process of tuning. For quite some time, she picked, listened, adjusted the pegs and repeated the process. Rapt, he watched her every move. At last, with a little shake of her head, she frowned. “What’s wrong?” He asked, and realized most suddenly that he was absolutely urgent to hear her play.

“It doesn’t sound right,” she said. “It’s sleeping.”

Hap almost laughed out loud. “ _Sleeping_?”

“Yes,” she said and took the bow from the case, then explained, “if a violin is not played for a long period of time, it loses its voice, its essence. Some musicians theorize it is because the wood becomes tight when it does not vibrate through regular playing. The sound is less lively, less bright. Sleepy. So, musicians say that their instrument has gone to sleep.”

“Ah, so it’s a technical term?”

“Sort of.”

“And here I thought you’d just invoked some deep and earthy Russian folklore.”

“Hah! No, not at all. Here, I’ll show you,” she said and brought the violin to her cheek, but she lowered it again. “May I stand?”

“Yes, yeah,” he said and watched as she stood with her instrument, raised it and started to play. He almost could not hear the music she played, for the sight of her as she stood there nearly robbed him of all his other senses. Yet he forced himself to focus despite the cascade of silk that seemed impossibly bright and full of the entire color spectrum, like a stained glass sparkling in sun. Lips pressed together, she played a few notes. Her body swayed slightly as she bowed, and Hap had to put his hands beneath his thighs to keep from reaching out to touch her hips. Music swelled like a call to prayer, and he was helpless not to follow it wherever it would lead him. He closed his eyes, suspended in the moment, and then opened them again, lest he lose a moment of the dazzling display before him.

Then, just as quickly as she’d started it, Prairie ended the music. “You see?” She asked softly. “I mean, did you _hear_?”

“It was beautiful,” he murmured. “Exquisite.”

“No,” she sniffed out and shook her head. “It was flat. Sleepy.” She caressed the instrument and Hap was confounded by a jealousy that made him want to snatch it from her and smash it against the wall, but he didn’t. “It hasn’t been played regularly, so it has gone to sleep.”

“Well, can you wake it back up? If you played it regularly again?”

“Possibly,” she nodded.

“Play more,” Hap demanded and his voice sounded feral and strange. Prairie raised her violin again and began once more to play. As she did, Hap rose from the bed. He prowled softly around her and took her in from every angle. He approached her from behind and admired the ivory curve of her neck as it cradled her beloved violin. When he brought his fingers to her flesh to brush her hair away so he could more closely study her musculature as she played, she paused. “Don’t stop,” he hissed against her shoulder and she continued playing the slow, sweet melody. He lowered his lips to her skin and hovered over her, breathing in the sour salt of her sweat mingled with the spice of her earlier baking. “Keep playing,” he whispered and he dragged his mouth across her back, from one shoulder to the other. He remembered he had hands and they found her waist. She uttered a tiny gasp when he put his fingers around the tiny expanse of her abdomen, but she didn’t stop playing. He gripped lightly at the silk and felt the firmness of her beneath and he was so close the strings she played were nearly deafening. Reaching up, he felt over her biceps ever so gently, so he could feel her move over her instrument, back and forth, up and over.

At last, her song ended.

He clung to her as she lowered bow and violin to her sides. He felt her breath rise more quickly, and he realized it was in time with his own.

He took the violin and bow from her hands and placed them back in the case. “Will you let me play it again?” She asked in a small voice.

“We’ll see,” he said, but he knew he would. “That song, what is it? I don’t know much about classical music. Who is the composer?”

“That? Oh, it’s not a composer. It’s just something I wrote.”

“What? You wrote that? When?”

“After I died the first time. When I was a child in Russia. It was a song I played over and over again,” Prairie had tears in her eyes.

“Come here,” Hap said and pulled her down onto the bed into his arms. Her body was stiff, but she permitted the embrace. “Are you being honest? You wrote that piece of music?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Holy shit,” he exhaled and kissed her forehead. She’d put her hands flat against his chest as though she were bracing herself against him, or as if she might push him away. “Oh my god, Prairie, do you have any clue how beautiful you are? How precious?” She didn’t answer. She breathed and he felt it against his neck. “Tell me about your first NDE again,” he said.

“I already did. I told you everything about it.”

“I want to hear it again,” he murmured and as he did, he took one of her hands and brought it to the button of his jeans. He groaned as he felt her fingers latch on to the button.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes, oh fuck yes, Prairie,” he whined. “Please, _please_.” She tugged his button through the eye.

“Now what?” She whispered.

“The zipper,” he murmured. “Pinch it.” She did just this, and left her finger and thumb suspended on the little metal pull. “Pull it,” he hissed hot against her cheek. She complied, but slowly, and unzipped his jeans tooth by metal tooth. Hap sucked Prairie’s earlobe between his lips and swirled his tongue over it. His cock practically leapt when he heard her whimper in what he could only assume was arousal. Her hand lingered at the base of his zipper and when he moved his hips, he felt his bulge brush up against the knuckle of her thumb.

“You want me to touch you,” she stated, “here,” and she stroked her thumb over the white cotton clad protrusion.

“Ah!” He cried. “Yes, I need it. Oh god please touch me. Take me out of my underwear and touch me.”

“Like this?” She asked and pulled the waistband of his boxers down so his cock sprang forth. Her touch whispered over him.

“Yes, yes,” he panted and dared not move a single muscle, desperate as he was to touch her breast. Glancing down, he could see her nipples poking hard against the thin silk she wore, but he did not chance move to touch her or kiss her, least he break this delicate spell in which he was somehow cast. “Wrap your hand around me,” he begged.

“Like this?”

“ _Fffffuuuuccckkkkkkkk yessss_ ,” he sighed as she began to pump him with a lack of expertise he found infinitely charming. “Now tell me about your NDE,” he breathed.

Prairie tilted her head up so her lips met the shell of his ear and she whispered, “Tell me about August first, Hap,” she didn’t stop stroking him. In fact, she found the sticky beads of excitement that had seeped up in the slit of his head, and she used her fingers to spread it down over the throbbing nerves beneath.

“What?” He asked deliriously. “She’s gone. Why do you want to know about her?”

“Because I do. Tell me about her, Hap.”

“No,” he said and then, “Oh god please don’t stop. Please, I need it. _I need it_ , Prairie!”

“And I need to know about August.”

“Ok. Ok. Fine. Just go back to what you were doing,” he pleaded. Prairie resumed the languid stroking of his dick, paying special attention to the ridges and crests around his head. He used his free hand to unbutton his shirt. “She was a subject in my study.”

“I already know that,” Prairie said. “Tell me about what happened to her.”

“You don’t need to know about that,” he exhaled. “I don’t want you to worry about her.” Again Prairie stopped what she was doing and Hap groaned in frustration. “She died. It happened before you got here.” Again, her hand moved over him, back and forth, up and over. It felt so good.

“How did she die?” She asked and nuzzled her face against his exposed chest. Her tongue darted out and flicked over his nipple. He shivered as a wave of electricity shot from his heart, down his spine, and straight through his raging cock. She was able to read the body language of his pleasure and she licked his nipple again and again. At the warm, moist touch of her tongue lapping over him, he was helpless not to start moving his hips, thrusting his cock up in her hand. “Tell me,” she murmured around his pert nipple.

“It was part of the experiment,” he said.

“What experiment?”

“The NDE’s I conduct on the subjects. I couldn’t get her back and. . . _oh, Christ!_ ” He yelped as Prairie nipped at his chest. “She died. She just died.” He brought his hand up and helped himself to the tiny mound of her breast. It wasn’t enough. He pushed the silk off her shoulder and touched her skin. He rolled her flesh in his palm as he rode her hand, slow and sweet.

“What did you do with her?”

“What?”

“Her body, Hap. What did you do with her body?”

Hap grunted and moved his hips faster as he prepared to come. “I buried her,” he choked and wrapped his own hand around Prairie’s so he could tighten her grip and show her how he liked his fit and feel, how he liked it hard and fast.

"Where?"

"Outside away from the house, in the woods," Hap mumbled. She sucked vigorously on his nipple and he squeezed his eyes shut, flexed his thighs and tried like bloody hell to focus on the steady rhythm and pressure in which he was sheathed, and not to remember the thundering cascade of earth as it rained down on August’s plastic wrapped corpse. When he came, the force of his orgasm sucked him back, as if caught in a rip tide, in his brain to someplace small and primal where he peered through a dark tunnel. Then he was propelled back out. With alarming speed, he shattered through a kaleidoscope of pulsating color. He was barely aware of his own voice which called her name and swore and pleaded for it to never stop.

Awareness returned to him, and with it, shame.

In the night air of the room, his hot seed began to cool almost instantly over his abdomen, and in droplets further up on his chest. He sighed heavily and used a corner of his shirt to wipe her hand, which she then withdrew from him and pressed against her own arms. As he licked his lips and examined her face for a sign of what she might be feeling, he searched his own brain for words. To explain. To apologize. To rationalize.

But all he came up with was, “Thank you for that.” She gave him a small nod of her head and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So?
> 
> How are we all feeling after this?


	13. Chapter 13

Hap considered getting the portable canister of scopolamine from his closet. What had he been thinking telling Prairie about August? The answer was simple; he had not been thinking. When he was in contact with her he was rendered thoughtless beyond simply being in the glow of her essence. The gas would have, at the very least dulled her memory, if not robbed her of it completely. He considered doing it while she slept, so she wouldn’t be afraid, and so he wouldn't have to see or feel her struggle as he placed the mask over her face.

Every muscle twitched toward this pertinent action.

Instead, he folded her into his arms and cradled her against his chest. He reveled in how marvelous it felt to defy his brain and allow his body this primal comfort. Nuzzling the downy crown of her head, he said, “I held up my end of the bargain. Now, will you tell me about your NDE?”

She sighed and her breath rippled through the hair on his chest. “What do you want to know? I’ve told you all there is. There isn’t anything else to tell.” He felt her voice vibrate against him, through his muscle and bone. 

“I know. I just want to hear it again.”

“What? Like a story?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“A bedtime story of my NDE?” She scoffed.

“What?” He chuckled. “You’re a good story teller.”

“Hmmmh, I’ve never been told that before.”

“Well, it’s true. And your NDE, Prairie, there’s something about it. . . it’s different than the others.”

“How so?”

“Tell me about it again and I’ll tell you.”

“Okay,” she said and he felt her move her head against his chest as she got comfortable. “Drowning, dying, was painful. It hurt more than anything I’d ever known. It hurt more than walking into freezing water on the coldest day of the year. My lungs were on fire and the brightness spread up behind my eyes until it felt they would explode from my head. Then it was dark and I was all curled up. A warm hand reached down to me and woke me up. Gentle. Like she was a loving parent or relative that I’d never met but who’d always known about me and cared for me across all the time and space. I took her hand and emerged into a dazzling space.”

“It was light? After you were in the darkness, it was light again?”

“Yes, well, sort of? It was bright, but not like a sunny day. It was like being in a cave filled with sparkling treasures that were all lit up. Like starlight? But not like I was looking at the stars; it was like I was inside of the stars and their light was glittering all around me. It was beautiful. Maybe I didn’t tell you this before, but it is beautiful when you die. Did I tell you that?”

“No. You didn’t tell me that.”

“It was warm and there was no pain. No fear at all. I couldn’t feel my own body, but even that did not seem strange; maybe because I was so young I didn’t question things. An ancient woman was there and she held me and all I felt was comfort. She told me I could go back, or I could stay where there was peace and no pain.”

“And you made a choice?”

“Yes. I did,” she said and he could not evade the disappointment that soaked her voice.

“Have you regretted your decision?”

“I don’t regret the time I got to spend with my father before I left Russia. I don’t regret going to school. I don’t regret meeting and being raised by a loving mom and dad. So, I guess, no, I do not regret my choice.”

Hap hardly slept that night.

In the morning, she made him breakfast and he didn’t have much of an appetite. He kept thinking of the cave filled with sparkling treasure, and of the sound of Prairie's voice as she rationalized her choice. As she moved around his kitchen, he longed to touch her, to hold her, to feel her body beating and breathing close to him, but pride and shame held him back. It was almost a relief to return her down to the lab and place her back among the other subjects. Yet, the moment he ascended the stairs, he felt as though he were sinking, deep beyond the bedrock of his lab and the subjects, and far, far away from Prairie.

As he shut the door and was greeted by the familiar beep of his alarm system, he realized he'd never told her the difference between her NDE's and the others'. The coffee she'd made still sat in his mug. He dumped it down the sink and went to pack a bag. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. . . thoughts? You all still out there?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heartbeat is as unique as a fingerprint. . .

“He kept you up there all night again?” Homer did not try to hide the concern in his voice.

“I’m okay,” Prairie said.

“What happened, Prairie?” Homer sounded desperate, but other emotions seemed to fill his tone as well, and Prairie was not certain exactly what those emotions were, nor did she really want to know at that particular moment.

“Nothing? I don’t know. I baked him cookies and made him dinner and then he wanted me to stay. I agreed because I wanted to see if he would tell me stuff.” She paced her cell a couple times, then stood still. In the stillness, a chill nipped her fingertips.

“Yeah right,” Scott sneered. “You wanted to sleep in a nice bed and get some sweet action with a nice full belly. Fuck you, Prairie!”

“Scott, that isn’t helpful,” Rachel offered.

“Rachel?” Prairie heard Rachel’s voice and knew she could not put off delivering the news any longer.

“Yeah?” Her voice floated, soft and muffled, like wings of a moth beating on the glass.

“I found out about August.”

“Oh my God. _Ohmygodohmygod_ ,” Rachel wept. “What? What did he do to her?”

“She’s dead. She died.” Prairie didn’t mince or soften her words. She pressed her hands and forehead against the cool glass. “I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck,” Homer hissed.

“What’d ya have to do for that information, Officer Obvious? Like we didn’t all fucking know that August was fucking dead?” Scott grumbled as Rachel sobbed.

“How?” Rachel whispered, ignoring Scott’s harsh words.

Prairie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “It has to do with the gas, or rather with what happens after the gas. He does something to us. Experiments. He said something about conducting NDE’s on us. He did something to August and he couldn’t bring her back. That’s what he said.”

For a moment there was silence but for the rippling of the stream between them and Rachel’s breathy crying. Then Homer spoke, “So he’s killing us and bringing us back?”

“I don’t know,” Prairie sighed. She backed away from the window and sat down on her bed. “I think it’s something like that. I think he’s studying our NDE’s as we have them.”

“But _why_?” Homer asked.

“I don’t know,” Prairie said. “He’s obsessed with it.”

Scott exhaled in a low whistle. “Hooooo boy. That must be some pretty sweet muff you got there, Angel Pants, if that sick fuck is trusting you with this classified information.”

“Scott!” Rachel scolded. “This all sucks enough without you being crass and ignorant.”

“On the contrary, Rachel, I think this has only just begun to suck, as you so eloquently put it. You see, while the rest of us are dying in these so called experiments, little Prairie over there is getting treated like the golden princess she thinks she is. Ever notice he never takes her after he gasses us? And, as if that weren’t fuck all, she’s also getting laid. Are you getting laid, Rachel? Are you getting laid, Homer? Cuz I sure as shit ain’t gettin’ laid down here. Sure we got some fruit and new undies out of the deal, but I’d like to get my rocks off. Fuck it’s been forever since I felt a nice, wet pussy. He make you wet, Prairie? I bet he makes you sloppy wet cuz it seems like you get turned on by twisted psycho fuckers like him!”

“Jesus, Scott, would you _please_ shut up,” Homer said.

“Yeah, whatever, Home Boy,” Scott chided. “You’re just defending her cuz you want a piece of that golden cunt for yourself. Never figured the football hero would settle for Hap’s sloppy seconds but whatev- ”

Homer and Rachel began yelling at Scott in unison and Prairie rubbed her fingers over her brow in a vigorous attempt to dispel the ache settling there. “Enough,” she finally said, and although she said it in a soft voice, it was loud enough to still the ruckus. “Scott, I know your heart is just as broken as Rachel’s to find out about August. And I know you are also as frightened as the rest of us. Your fear fuels rage within you and you are throwing your fire at me. I understand.” She paused and stood. Her hands flickered at her thighs. “I understand, and I accept your fear and your rage, but I don’t deserve it. I am here too. I’m here with you. I’m trying.” She closed her eyes and thought through her tears of the balls of dough she’d spooned out onto the cookie trays, cognizant all the while that a butcher knife rested in a wooden block well within her reach.

“Are you though?” Scott sneered.

“Am I what?”

“Are you really here with us? Cuz I reckon you’re up there having snacks and cuddling up with the big boss. You’re not one of us. Fuck you you’re trying cuz you’re not. Not even a little bit.”

“That’s not true Scott and you know it,” Homer said. “Prairie is doing everything she can. She’s doing more than you ever did.”

“Yeah, well I don’t like sucking or pounding evil dick, so. . .”

“Oh my god Scott you are just as disgusting as you claim Hap is! Look, we’ve all had some intense news and I think we all need to cool off before we regroup and come up with the next step,” Homer said evenly.

“Thank you, Homer,” Prairie said. She returned to her cot and curled up on it with her back to the others. It was so much damper and cooler in their cells than it had been upstairs in the warmth of the kitchen. She could still smell the coffee she’d brewed Hap in the fibers of her sweater and for some reason, the smell taunted her, made her almost sick with anxiety and guilt. She put her hand over her ear to muffle Scott’s incessant grumbling and Rachel’s devastated sniffles. She wanted to escape into sleep, but she wasn’t tired at all. Shame flooded her as she realized she’d slept better the previous night next to the perpetrator of their captivity than she had since she’d been there. She tried to rationalize that it was simply because she’d been warm and in a soft, comfortable bed with real blankets, but the awful truth was that it was more than that. She couldn’t even work out precisely in her mind what it was, nor did she want to.

Hours passed. Through a haze of grief and confusion, Prairie heard the others bathe and argue and then joke and laugh. She heard the food pellets drop down signaling that the day was drawing toward its close. She heard Homer grunt and breathe as he did his exercises. She heard the gong that signaled the lights would change. The others quieted down and there was little noise but the babbling of the water.

Prairie realized she was thirsty. She’d not had anything to eat or drink all day. She dragged herself out of her cot and felt her way over to the rim of the stream. With her fingers curved into a cup, she brought water to her lips. It was icy cold and tasted of minerals and earth. She drank until her stomach revolted at the sensation of being overfilled with cold.

“Hey,” Homer whispered, and she knew he was talking to her.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

Prairie walked over to the glass between them. She put her hand up and tried to figure where he would be standing. “What’s up?”

“Are you okay? Really?”

“Yeah, Homer. I’m okay.”

“Did he. . . did he do anything to you?”

Prairie ignored the edge of jealousy she suspected in his voice. She shook her head. “No. He was fine.”

Homer huffed out a big gust of a breath. “Dammit Prairie.”

“What?”

“Well, did he make you stay? Did he give you a choice or did he force you?”

“He didn’t force me,” Prairie said. “But I felt like I had to stay. I wanted to find out about August. For Rachel.”

“Is that all?”

“Mmmmhmmh.”

“Did you sleep in his bed with him?”

“Yes,” Prairie sighed and lowered her face.

“What did he make you do? For the information?”

“What do you mean?” Prairie felt her heart start to beat faster.

“It’s just that I go crazy when you’re up there; especially when you’re up there all night. It’s awful, not knowing what’s going on or what he’s doing.”

“Homer, please don’t worry about it.”

“Can’t help it,” Homer said with a sniff.

“Thank you for caring and for believing in me,” Prairie whispered and bit her lip.

“Yeah, whatever,” Homer said. “It’s just I wonder if you like it.”

“What?”

“Well? Do you? Do you like being up there and sleeping next to him?”

“Oh, gosh, Homer, I don’t know. Please! Why are you interrogating me?”

“Shit! Scott was right, wasn’t he? You do enjoy it!” Homer hissed.

“No, it’s not that. It’s not. Not exactly.”

“Then what? What is it _exactly,_ Prairie?”

Prairie rolled her head around on her neck and splayed her fingers out against the glass. “Do you remember being touched, Homer? The actual warmth and connection of another human being’s touch? I miss it. I miss touching things besides rock and glass and icy water and my own filthy body. You can see me, but I can’t see you. Do you know what that’s like for me? Being locked in the darkness of not just this cage, but my own blindness down here? The depravation is maddening! God forgive me, I just wanted to feel another human body. I needed it. Don’t you miss it?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then if you care about me as much as you say you do, I’m begging you, please don’t begrudge me this one need while I try to use my station to help all of you. Please!” Tears streamed down her cheeks and she balled her hands into fists which she thumped softly against the wall between them. “I swear to you it doesn’t take away what I share with you three down here. I swear it, Homer.”

“I want to believe you,” he said.

“Then believe me. I need you of all people to believe me. To believe in me.” She stretched her neck from side to side. She was stiff and achey from lying on her cot all day.

“Hey,” Homer said slowly. “What’s that?”

“Huh?”

“Around your neck. Is that a necklace?”

Prairie instinctively put her hand up to her throat where the metal chain holding the pendant Hap had given her laid limply around her. She took it out of her shirt and held it up so he could see it if he wanted. “He asked me to wear this. It has a device in it that measures my heartbeat so he can record and listen to it remotely.”

“Wow,” Homer breathed. “Prairie, Hap’s not just obsessed. He’s obsessed with you.”

Prairie put the necklace back under her shirt. “Can we talk about something else now?”

“Fine. Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. Talk to me about anything. Tell me a story.”

“Okay, but I don’t want to wake the others. Can you bring your bed over to this side of your cell and I’ll bring mine and then we can lay in bed and tell stories?”

“Sure,” Prairie said and she smiled for the first time all day. “That sounds nice.” It was easy enough to bring her cot over to the glass between her and Homer’s cells. It was light and the mattress was no more than a thin pad so it barely weighed anything at all. They managed to set up without disturbing the others and then they got into their beds.

“Can you hear me okay?” Homer asked in a low voice.

“Yup,” Prairie said and curled on her side so she faced the glass.

“Cool. Alright, so do you like to go fishing?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been.”

“Imagine a river. A wide river with fresh clear water rushing over smooth, round rocks. It’s flanked on either side by thick woods with tall trees.”

“What kind of trees?”

“Oak trees? And conifers. All kind of conifers. Super tall ones cuz they’re old, as old as the forest itself.”

“Conifers?” Prairie giggled.

“Ssshhhh, yeah, conifers,” Homer said. “You know, like pine trees. Enormous Christmas trees.”

“Are there bears in the forest?”

“Umm, sure, but this isn’t a story about bears. It’s a story about fishing. So, you wade into the water, right? And you have your fishing pole and your basket for whatever you catch, but you don’t even care if you catch anything because it’s just so nice being in the river. The water is cool, but the sun is warm. You have a picnic waiting for you on the bank of the river and everything just feels right.”

Prairie closed her eyes and walked into the river. She was scared she might slip, so she took hold of Homer’s hand. “It’s nice,” she whispered. “I like it a lot. Thanks for taking me fishing with you, Homer.”

“Do you know how to cook fish?”

“Nope!”

“Oh my god woman, am I going to have to teach you everything?” Homer chuckled. Prairie giggled in response. When her breath hitched with her little laugh, her heart sped up ever so slightly before it settled back into its steady rhythm of rest.

Hap caught the accelerated beat like an aberration on his headphones upstairs. He had been nearly asleep at his desk, and the sudden change in tempo startled him. He opened his eyes and pried open his laptop. With a few clicks he brought up the camera feed. For a moment, through his overtired eyes, it looked as though Prairie and Homer had somehow managed to get into a cell together and that they were lying next to one another. The image confused him until he realized they had just pushed their beds up against the wall. There was still a thick pane of glass between them. He sighed, but there was little relief in it.

The bag he’d packed earlier that day was by the door. He’d planned to leave that afternoon, but a series of storms had grounded all planes in the area and he’d stayed at the house to work. “Fuck it,” he huffed and snapped his laptop closed. He grabbed it and strode to the door to grab his bag. Within moments, he was on the road, heading toward the airport. Music blared through his car speakers. He had to drown out the sound of her heart. He had to get away.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclosing details to Leon about what was transpiring back at his lab had not been on Hap’s agenda. In fact, he spent his entire flight considering how he would inquire as to Leon’s policies and procedures regarding enforced turnover of subjects. The loud, aggressive music in his headphones made him feel brave to the point of violence. He clutched the plane’s controls until his hands hurt. 

But he found after the charcuterie board and a few craft beers, his spirit waned from full blooded fearlessness to something bordering a good, old sulk. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Hap found himself practically maudlin as he and Leon waited for their main courses at the swanky bistro Leon had suggested. Leon noticed. 

“Hap, what is up with you?” He asked. His voice took on a squeaky, teasing tone and irritated Hap instantly.

“What do you mean?” Hap swigged the dregs of his beer and waved his finger in the air to signal to their wait staff that he’d like another. 

“You’re quiet, you seem grouchy- even more so than usual- and you’ve been looking at your watch and touching your briefcase every four minutes all night! You seem preoccupied. And then there’s the fact you’ve barely come out of hiding for the past six months or so. So, I ask again, what is up with you?” 

“Nah, it’s nothing,” Hap started and snatched an olive from the plate between them. He put it in his mouth and chewed the pulp carefully away from its pit. 

“What’s in the briefcase that’s got you so anxious?” 

“Anxious may be a bit of an overstatement, Leon.”

“You’ve been twitchy all night! Come on, you have something in there about the research that you don’t want to share, or what?”

“Actually, you’ll think I’m foolish, but I’ve got my subjects set up on a monitor and I like to check in on them on my laptop. Make sure they’re eating, sleeping, completing activities of self care.” 

Leon opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head with a snort. “You’re right, Hap. I do think you’re foolish. Come on, man! They’re your specimens, not your babies.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hap agreed with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and took the olive pit from his mouth. He wondered if Prairie liked olives and then shoved the thought way back in his mind easily as he’d just adjusted his glasses. 

“You’re getting too attached. You’ve got to think of them like mice or rats. Maybe a bunny that is cute, but you still understand it is simply part of the science.”

“But they aren’t rats, are they? Not really. I mean, they’re human, right?” Hap lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Leon as he said this. 

“Eh, maybe. But great sacrifice is made for great science. Think of the precipice on which we stand and how much we have to gain. It’s all for the greater good in the long run. They call it the long run because it is a marathon and not a sprint. Never forget the long run, Hunter.”

“That’s exactly what I told her!” Hap exclaimed without meaning to. Leon blinked at him.

“Told who?” 

“No one really,” Hap quickly corrected.

“No, Hunter, if you’ve been talking about the work to other people, I need to know about it,” Leon needled. 

The waitress brought two more beers and set them down on the table. Hap waited until she was safely out of earshot before he picked up his glass and said, “It was no one important really. Or rather, no one who would compromise the study. Just one of my subjects. She was questioning me on the study and on keeping them locked up. I told her it was all for the greater good of scientific gain.” 

“Wait. Wait,” Leon frowned. His skinny fingers splayed and then clenched. “You talk to your subjects about the study. I mean, Hap, what the fuck? Have you lost your mind? It’s no wonder you are having trouble with your objectivity if you are having full blown conversations with your fucking subjects, man.” 

Hap gulped his beer and begged the flood of regret and anxiety to subside. “There’s something different about this one though,” he had started and found he couldn’t stop himself. “She’s special. She’s got something that the others don’t have, and I think, Leon, I really think she might hold the key to unlocking the next phase of the study for me. She’s really like more of a partner in the study than a subject. And oh, Leon, you should see her, she’s beautiful and clever and a hell of a cook. I mean, I feel like maybe when the study has come to its natural conclusion, maybe she and I, well you know, maybe we could be something together. Even if not a couple, then certainly study partners of a kind? I don’t know. . .” He trailed off to find Leon staring at him with his mouth wide open. Hap knew he’d made a grievous error in judgement and every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared to dash out of the restaurant. 

But Leon’s gaping mouth slowly turned into a grin. He started to laugh. Hard. He even hit his knee. Hap coughed and chuckled along with him, curious what was happening. “Oh, man, you almost had me there for a second,” Leon finally was able to gasp through his laughter. “For a moment I thought you were serious. That’s a good one! You are a real wild card, Hunter!”

“Right,” Hap said as it dawned on him Leon thought he’d been joking about his declaration about Prairie. He smiled and nodded. “I was wondering how far I could take it before you’d call my bluff,” he said. 

“Wow. You really got me good. I thought you were completely losing your damn mind. Falling for a subject and including her in the confidential workings of the project. Dude, if I ever found out you’d gone that far of the reservation, I’d put a bullet in your head myself.”

“Yeah. Well, I’d expect nothing less,” Hap scoffed and leaned back with a wry smile so the server could place his plate in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still out there? Feel free to say hi in the comments below. I'm sorry I made you wait so long for this chapter, but I swear that some comments showing folks are still interested in this story would be super motivating to my writing right about now. . . As ever, thank you for reading. xoxoxo.

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely sure where this is going. . . but for some reason I am completely and utterly fascinated with the big old bag of dicks we know to be Hunter Aloysius Percy. I live and breathe for comments and would love to connect with others in this lovely fandom. Please feel free to say hello and thanks so much for reading. oxoxoxo.


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